


Sgt Annie's Lonely Hearts Ad Plan

by ninetiesnecklace



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Comedy, Drunken Shenanigans, Humour, M/M, Sass, first encounters, if you're here for the smut it's in chapter 8, lonely hearts ad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 05:09:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3475643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninetiesnecklace/pseuds/ninetiesnecklace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annie thinks that Mitchell needs to get out more and meet people. So a lonely hearts ad is just the way to go!<br/>//<br/>Dawn is worried about Anders and decides that he should find someone to ground him - if not a significant other then at least a friend.</p><p>They both read the same paper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First coffee ideas

**Author's Note:**

> As with any weird idea I don't exactly know where this one comes from but at some stage my ConsultingFili and I decided that Annie would definitely put a lonely hearts ad in the paper to find someone for Mitchell. And that Anders would never look at it. Dawn, on the other hand....
> 
> Just a little story we wrote together. I hope it's half as entertaining to read as it was to write!

Mitchell put on the coffee machine and got the two pieces of toast out of the toaster. He opened the fridge, spontaneously deciding against cold cuts when he took a closer look at the meat.

“Buttered toast it is,” he murmured and placed his plate on the table, next to the paper.

“Morning, Mitchell,” Annie greeted him with a bright smile, her curls bouncing around her face as she suddenly appeared next to the fridge.

“Morning, Annie,” Mitchell replied and threw her a drowsy smile. By now he was used to her rent-a-ghosting to meet him in the kitchen every morning. He had also replaced the multitude of mugs he had smashed before that was an established habit.

Just as Mitchell sat down the coffee machine’s spluttering sounds announced that his first coffee was done. He moved to get up when Annie put her hand on his shoulder and stopped him in his tracks.

“Oh no, sit down. I’ll get your coffee and you take a look at the newspaper,” she said cheerfully and Mitchell did as he was told.

“Cheers,” he muttered.

With one hand he grabbed a piece of toast, cut in a triangle, while the other opened the newspaper. It’s not like he was too much into politics – living forever gives you quite the detached view on the world and its current problems – but maybe there was an interesting review of this week’s albums. He turned a few pages only to realize that no arts section was featured on this Monday morning.

A steaming cup of coffee appeared next to him, along with a giddy Annie.

“Thanks, Annie,” he said, throwing a questioning look at her. “Why are you so happy this morning?”

“Well,” she said and sat down opposite Mitchell, putting one hand over the other, “there is something I want to show you.”

“And what would that be?” Mitchell asked, taking a gulp from the mug.

“Page 5.”

“Page 5,” Mitchell repeated and turned the next page. The lonely hearts column. That was page 5, wasn’t it? He double checked and looked up to meet Annie’s eyes.

“You sure?” he asked with clear doubt in his voice.

“Hell yeah,” Annie replied with a giggle, “take a look.”

With one eyebrow raised in question Mitchell adhered to her words. The double page was plastered with ads in small print and capitalized first lines, artfully arranged around actual commercial ads for wedding rings and therapy. One ad on page 5 was circled in red pen and if Annie’s overly happy state was anything to go by that marker was meant for him.

“Do you enjoy films/pubs/music? 27-year old m/180/slim but athletic/smoker is looking for ppl. to hang out with in Bristol. Up for drinks & a chat? Give me a buzz,” Mitchell read out aloud.

“And?” Annie asked excitedly.

“And… what?” Mitchell tilted his head in question. So far, so good but this was becoming stranger by the minute.

“What do you think?” Annie’s enthusiasm made her squirm on the chair, only adding to Mitchell’s confusion.

“Uhm… I don’t know…”

Maybe the author of that ad was a friend of hers. Or she just found her match in today’s paper – with Annie, reasoning could go in any direction, really. Regardless, Mitchell opted for the truth. “To be honest that guy sounds pretty needy and awfully generic.”

“Mitchell!” Annie scolded him.

“What?” Mitchell said by way of defending himself and took another sip from his coffee.

“It’s you.”

“… what?” he asked again, this time with a dead-panned expression on his face.

“It’s you, that guy. I put in an ad for you.” Annie’s smile quavered only a second as she looked at Mitchell with big hazel eyes.

That couldn’t be true. Mitchell stared at her and tried to find any evidence that she was messing with him. Hell, he would even take the “Annie has found her match and it’s a human” version right about now over his own ad in the bloody morning paper.

“You’re joking, right?” he asked. She had to. Even Annie couldn’t be so crazy as to actually go through with this.

“Well, you’re quite often alone on the weekends. You know, with George having Nina now and all,” Annie shrugged and avoided eye contact.

Mitchell opened his mouth to reply something, anything, but in that moment George entered the kitchen in a beige dressing gown.

“Good Morning, everyone,” he said in a cheerful tone and sat down on a chair next to Mitchell while Annie fixed him a cup of tea.

“George, listen to this,” Mitchell said and didn’t pay any mind to return his greeting, “Annie has put an ad in the paper for me. In the lonely hearts column.”

“Ohh, isn't that a great idea!” George said way too enthusiastically for Mitchell’s taste. “Your weekends were rather uneventful lately. And it’s been a while since your last date.”

Annie placed the cup in front of George and sat down again.

“Wha- George!” Mitchell huffed and suddenly felt betrayed. So much for having George on his side. Besides, why was everyone so damn interested in his personal life all of the sudden?

“You know what I mean,” George softened his words and pulled the paper towards him. "Let me see... oh, that sounds nice! _You_ sound nice.”

Annie’s face lit up in a bright smile. “Doesn't he?”

“I can't believe you guys,” Mitchell said, shaking his head as he looked on, “this is wrong on so many levels. Annie, you didn't think to ask me first?!”

“Well, yes, I thought about it...” she frowned slightly.

“…and then you decided it's a great idea to pimp me out?” Mitchell asked, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

Bloody hell, this was not how he thought this morning would go. A Monday, at that, and he hadn’t even finished his first coffee. That wasn’t the kind of thing he wanted to deal with right now – but if he didn’t say anything now his housemates would find a way to make it even worse.

George looked at him in an offended way. “Don't be so harsh, Mitchell. Annie meant well!”

“Thank you, George,” Annie nodded at the werewolf before focusing her attention on Mitchell again. “I thought if you knew you wouldn't want it.”

“That’s exactly right,” Mitchell scoffed, biting off a piece of toast in frustration.

“Which is why I didn't ask,” Annie said and smiled way too brightly for this grey morning. “So, why don't you just give it a go? If nobody you like answers the ad, I won't press it, deal?”

“Ugh...” Mitchell sighed. He buried his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his curls. “It's too late now anyway. The bloody thing is printed.”

Annie nodded, satisfied with herself.

“Come on, Mitchell,” George said, squeezing his shoulder in encouragement, “I think it's a good idea. Granted, not many people read these things nowadays but it's worth a shot.”

The Irishman threw him a questioning look and grabbed the paper, his eyes flying over the ad again.

“Isn't all that just code for ‘I’m needy, will fuck anyone’?”

“Mitchell!” Annie slapped him lightly on the arm, “No, it's not at all like this!”

George nodded in agreement with Annie and placed his bowl of cereals on the table.

“I don't need your help to get laid, you know that, right?” Mitchell asked, “And why else would people read those?”

Annie looked at him determinedly. “Maybe they are looking for a partner for life. You know, these days not all people meet in a bar and fall in love at first sight.”

Mitchell raised an eyebrow. “Have you considered that I'm not looking for a partner for life? Or death, eternity, or whatever?”

“Well everybody does, in a way.”

George nodded. “And it can't hurt to try.”

“Easy for you to say,” Mitchell scoffed.

“Yeah… That's right. I was lucky,” George conceded and smiled just as brightly as Annie a moment ago.

Maybe there was something in the water, Mitchell began to think, or a gas leak that was going to everybody’s heads because this was definitely insane behaviour.

“And you don’t have to go alone,” Annie added with a sweet smile, “I can accompany you when you go meet someone.”

“Oh for fu- ...” Mitchell sighed and drank a big gulp of his coffee – a pause George used to nod at him in a gesture that was apparently meant to be encouraging.

“I think it's a brilliant idea. You were a bit... mopey lately. Even if you don't find the love of your life it'll be good for you to get out more. Get to know people.”

He shot a conspiratorial look to Annie who lifted her hands to gesture back at him. “That's right, George. Can't be bad!”

Mitchell shook his head slowly. What a performance. Unbelievable. Sure, it was sweet that his friends worried about him (even though there was no reason to, he thought stubbornly) but that was definitely more than he felt comfortable with. Besides, who would answer such an ad?

“I doubt that anyone actually calls or texts.”

“There will be lots of people who want to meet you, I'm sure,” Annie said and bounced a little in her chair, “so you say yes?

“Ugh, I don't know...” Mitchell grumbled and shot a look towards George, seeking help despite his earlier betrayal. But the werewolf was eating, unimpressed by Mitchell’s aversion to the idea.

“Oh, come on,” Annie said with a pleading look.

Mitchell sighed. He really didn’t feel like being called up by strangers. But Annie would pester him about this for years to come if he denied her and at the core, this idea was nice – if uncalled for. With a bit of luck no one read the stupid thing and he’d be off the hook.

“Fiiine,” he relented.

“Uh, how exciting!” Annie clapped her hands.

“But you guys pay the bills for any date that might happen. I'm not posing as the house monkey for nothing,” Mitchell added with a wink and ate the last bit of his toast.

“What?!” George asked in a high pitched voice, “Annie, that wasn't the plan!”

“It won’t be anything under five courses in a three star restaurant, mate,” Mitchell teased his friend and got up, placing his plate in the sink to the sound of Annie giggling.

Then, he put on his jacket, drank the rest of his coffee and took his phone from the table.

“Anyway, my beloved yet crazy housemates - I need to get to work.”

“Mitchell, why don't you give me your phone?” Annie asked in her most innocent voice, “It needs charging anyway. And I’ll watch the calls for you.”

Mitchell stopped in his tracks. “You put my mobile number on it?”

With a quick move he checked the paper again and almost immediately threw it back on the kitchen table. “…great. No way, Annie.”

Not even her most angelic smile could convince him otherwise. He had already lost most of his dignity – what was left of it shouldn’t be destroyed by having Annie answer possible messages.

Yet the look she gave him was so very disappointed. _Come on, give her a compromise_.

“Listen, when I come back we can look through the calls or texts or whatever but I’m not handing it over,” Mitchell said.

“Well, I suppose that would be alright,” Annie agreed.

“Don't delete anything, we want the whole story,” George added with a wink.

Mitchell scoffed good-naturedly and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I'm sure there'll be tons to tell. I'll see you guys later.”

With this he strode out the door, still shaking his head in disbelief.

 


	2. Matchmaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day at the office for Dawn... time to shake things up a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, kudos, comments, bookmarks, subscribers and everything! Cheers!  
> Glad you guys enjoy the idea :)

10:48. Dawn frowned at her watch and went back to typing up an answer to the last of the mails that had accumulated over the weekend. Well, the ones she could answer, that was – things would go a lot smoother if a certain PR Agent showed up on time. _I should really ask for a raise. Or more vacation days_. But if she spent more days on holiday there probably wasn’t a business to return to.

The characteristic sound of Anders’ long strides echoed through the corridor. Dawn looked up just as her boss walked through the door, dressed impeccably in a well-fitted suit with a dark blue shirt.

“Good morning, Dawn, how are you today?” he asked, standing in front of her desk.

“I'm fine, Anders,” she said, her voice clearly showing how upset she was, “and unlike you I'm working since 8:30 while my boss doesn’t give a thought to showing up!”

Dawn threw him an irritated look and sharply asked, “Where have you been again?”

All her anger seemed to roll off Anders – he only raised one eyebrow, not at all fazed by Dawn’s accusations or her inquiry.

“I think the question is why you are here so early. Didn't your date keep you busy until the early morning?” he asked, adding a salacious smirk that extended to his blue eyes.

Dawn felt her blood creep into her cheeks and pushed a perfectly styled strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, not that this is any concern of yours,” she said, hoping in vain that her cheeks would stop burning, “but I had a lovely date. And as you can see this doesn’t exclude being able to work in the morning.”

Anders nodded slowly, lips still curled up in that bloody lewd grin. “Mhm, no sex then.”

He unbuttoned his jacket and walked over to his own desk, Dawn following him with a clipboard in her hands.

“Are you the type to wait till the third date?” he asked, hanging up the jacket.

Dawn only shot him an indignant look. She certainly wouldn’t honour this comment with an answer.

“So,” she said instead, her tone making clear she was talking business, “let's see what we have for today, shall we?”

She looked down on her clipboard, if only to escape Anders’ entirely un-gentlemanly smile. How he charmed most of their clients was a goddamn miracle.

Dawn tapped her pen on the individual points put down on her sheet. “There are the dog food people again. They want a new design for their poster. And the lady with the PR incident in the short dress called. I think she might need your help again...”

“I'm sure she does,” Anders chuckled which granted him another disapproving look from Dawn.

“Dawn, about the dog food people… I'd love for you to handle that.”

“Well, I already prepared a couple of versions for the poster,” Dawn answered and pressed the clipboard to her chest, “They’re on your desk.”

“Great, thank you. I'll take a look at them later. Let me call the dress incident first.”

Dawn nodded and turned to walk back to her desk. At least Anders took care of that client, for reasons she preferred not to dwell on.

“Dawn, have you seen my phone?” Anders called out.

She sighed. Her desk had been so close, as had the cup of coffee she was so looking forward to. She turned on her heels and returned to Anders who patted down his slacks.

“Last time you had it yesterday when you called me after 11pm.” Dawn made a deliberately pointed pause and added, “During my date.”

Anders checked his jacket pocket, shaking his head when he found it empty.

“And I haven't seen you this morning,” she went on, “So you must have lost it between then and now.”

 _Wouldn't be the first time_. He should really either delete their client’s numbers from that phone or put a more classy code than “6969” on it.

“Hmm… shit,” Anders murmured and scratched through his beard.

“You don't remember where you were last night,” Dawn stated more than she asked.

Anders’ look was nearly offended. “Yes I do, Dawn. I just don't remember where I left my phone.”

“So tell me,” she challenged him.

He looked at her defiantly. “A bar.“

Dawn tried her best not to laugh hysterically. “A _bar_?! Anders, are you kidding me? You’re always at a bar.”

She shook her head. Why exactly was she enduring that? “A little more precise would be great.”

“Uh, quite judgmental this morning,” Anders scoffed, “maybe you should've ploughed that date of yours. I'll just call my own number and with a bit of luck someone answers.”

“Maybe someone shouldn't be drunk every night and lose his phone at a _bar_ somewhere,” Dawn shot back. “Don’t bother, the battery will be dead by now. Better call the places you usually frequent.”

“Okay, you know what, Dawn? I don't need to be lectured on this by you,” Anders’ voice had become a bit sharper and Dawn lifted her hands in an apologetic gesture. Lately, alcohol had become a bit of a touchy subject and his reaction didn’t exactly help to ease Dawn’s worries about her boss.

Anders sighed. “Please just call the one on Colston Avenue and the one with the lion sigil. I'll deal with the skirt incident.”

Anders walked around his desk, sat down and picked up the landline.

“You want me to collect it afterwards, right?” Dawn asked, “Anything else?”

“Exactly. That's all, thanks, Dawn.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Locating the phone was thankfully fairly easy. Anders had been right about the places he had spent the night and ten minutes later, Dawn was on her way. She collected Anders’ phone from an otherwise empty _lost and found_ box and called her boss on the landline.

“J:PR, Anders Johnson speaking.”

“Anders? I found your phone. It was the bar on Colston Avenue. And it's dead.”

“Ah, great. Told you. Please be so kind and charge it when you come back to the office. I’m off to meet Ms Short Skirt for lunch,” Anders said in a somewhat hurried voice.

“You're meeting her?” Dawn asked, “Did you offer her a new contract? ‘Cause you know we're rather free at the moment.”

“I know, Dawnsie, but fear not. She only needs to sign the dotted line and I've got a good feeling about this.”

“If you say so…” Dawn replied, not entirely convinced. “Just make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid till after her press tour. And I'll charge your phone for later.”

“I know how to do my job, don’t worry. Okay, great. I'll see you later today or tomorrow.” With this, Anders hung up.

Dawn shook her head and made a detour on the way back to the office. She definitely deserved one of the cupcakes from her favourite bakery after all this. Anders wasn’t a bad boss as such but the drinking was getting worse, in her opinion. Ever since she had known him he had been quite partial to alcohol but recently he spent most nights in bars – regardless of how many meetings he had the next day.

Dawn sighed. Of course it wasn’t her place to point out that Anders might be a functioning alcoholic. But at the same time, no one else seemed to feel the need to. If he had a partner or at least a family he saw more than only once a month… but Anders wasn’t exactly the relationship kind of person. No wonder he talked about her dates with so much disdain.

She placed her bag on her desk and hung up her jacket. Did Anders even have friends? He always seemed to be out drinking on his own, falling in and out of beds of a different man or woman every other night. Not that there was anything wrong with it but Dawn had the feeling that he wasn’t doing it for the kick of it. Maybe he just didn’t want to come home to an empty apartment and a cold bed.

Well, she was his PA, not his therapist or mother. Still, she couldn’t help but worry about him. At the end of the day she sort of liked him and his behaviour influenced their work as well so maybe she should speak up.

Unpacking the delicious looking cupcake, Dawn opened the daily paper when it suddenly hit her: lonely hearts ads. Was that still a thing? Curious, she turned the pages until she found the right column and started reading. Just for fun, of course. Who knew, maybe there were people who looked for a connection too. Not that Anders was looking, strictly speaking, but the longer Dawn thought about it the better she liked the idea. Talking to Anders would probably end up in a headache on her part and without actual change in her boss but if he had someone else, someone beside her, his family and his conquests… People put in ads for all sorts of relationships, right? Maybe Anders would find someone to hang out with who he didn’t just take home and kicked out of bed in the morning. Someone who he could establish a routine with, someone to keep him, well, grounded in a way. After all, such an ad was how her cousin found her husband. Okay, that had been online dating but same difference, really.

The variety of ads wasn’t spectacular but upon closer look Dawn circled three that were roughly around Anders’ age. One was definitely out of the question – the combination of “likes dancing and hunting” sounded more than wrong – and the second one was plain boring. The third one, however, sounded nice.

“’Do you enjoy films/pubs/music? 27-year old m/180/slim but athletic/smoker is looking for ppl. to hang out with in Bristol. Up for drinks & a chat? Give me a buzz!’ Now that sounds more promising…” Dawn murmured and highlighted the phone number that was given.

This guy’s ad appeared more relaxed than any of the other ones. He was a little younger than Anders but Dawn was fairly sure that this wasn’t a problem. Anders wasn’t picky when it came to age and it probably wouldn’t even show when they meet.

Dawn got out pen and paper and started drafting a message for the ad-guy. The text should be relaxed and easy-going but not devoid of life. No smileys or fancy punctuation, just a charming and interested message with a bit of info on the side. She scribbled down a few versions, worked on the phrasing here and there and leant back in her chair.

Maybe this was exactly the kind of connection Anders needed. And if it worked she’d have less flowers to send and a happier boss. Win-win.

With a satisfied smile, Dawn took out Anders’ phone and started typing.


	3. The Yield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, let's have a look at what Mitchell's ad attracted!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the boys won't meet just now... but the next chapter will be all about the date! In the meantime I hope you enjoy this one :)

The shift had been okay but still Mitchell was glad to get home. He took a drag from his cigarette and sucked the smoke back in through his nostrils as he covered the last few metres to the entrance of the pink house. During the day he had put his phone in the locker, along with his clothes and went about his work. Yet if he was honest, his mind had wandered to the lonely hearts ad ever so often.

Classic Annie, he thought and chuckled. His initial aversion wasn’t exactly gone – mind you, he wasn’t looking for any kind of relationship and despite Annie’s insistence he didn’t feel lonely. But since Annie had taken matters into her own hands and there was no way to undo the ad he might as well run with it.

Much to his surprise there had been five messages on his phone when he finished his shift. He had flicked through them roughly, figuring that this was quite the cross section through your average newspaper reader clientele and left it at that. He wasn’t curious. At all. Annie would want all the details anyway and that was as good a time as any to take a closer look at what “his” ad had attracted. At least that was what he had told himself when he read through them. Twice.

Mitchell took a last drag from his cigarette and flicked the butt away, fumbling for his keys. If he moved silently he probably had a tiny chance to at least take off his coat before Annie grilled him.

He carefully opened the door, took a few steps down (avoiding the creaky bit to the left) and turned to the sofa. No one there. George was still at the hospital and maybe Annie was on one of her tours around the city. Yet just as Mitchell undid the buttons of his coat, Annie suddenly appeared next to the sofa.

“Mitchell, you're home! I was waiting for you,” she said.

“Hi Annie...” Mitchell shrugged off his coat, flung himself on the sofa with a sigh and placed his booted feet on the coffee table in front of him.

Annie followed him closely, contained curiosity radiating from her in waves. She shoved Mitchell’s feet off the table and sat down on the wooden surface, facing him with her sweetest smile. “SO, how many people called?”

“No one called.” Mitchell leaned his head on the backrest, stretching to keep Annie from seeing his mischievous grin. She deserved shenanigans after the stunt she pulled on him.

“No one?” Annie asked and Mitchell didn’t need to see her face to know that she looked utterly shocked. “But you're lovely!”

He finished stretching and let his hands fall into his lap with a sigh. He looked at Annie just in time to see her expression change via disappointed to sad and pressed his lips together to not give anything away. Okay, it was a little mean to make her go through that.

“Maybe you should've said so in the ad,” Mitchell said with a small smile.

“No, only creepy people do that!” Annie scoffed and looked at Mitchell in a way that implied that he should know that kind of thing.

“You know…” Mitchell raised an eyebrow, “I’m starting to get the feeling that you've done that stuff before.”

Suddenly, Annie creased her face in a harmless grimace, lowered her gaze and crossed her legs. Her fingers started drawing lines on the table that her eyes followed.

“Maybe…” she murmured so quietly that Mitchell wasn’t entirely sure she had actually said something.

Then, she looked up again, all pleading eyes and hope. “Really, no calls? At all?”

“No calls,” Mitchell echoed with faked sadness only to grin at her a moment later. “But I got a few texts.”

Annie’s face immediately lit up in a broad smile as she raised her hands to cup her face.

“Oh, really! That's great! Did you answer already, can I read them, please let me have your phone, did they send pictures, who are they, please Mitchell, you _have_ to tell me more!”

The words were gushing out of her and she could barely sit still, leaning closer to Mitchell with shining eyes.

The Irishman laughed loudly. Annie was definitely more enthusiastic about this than him but he could feel her energy draw him in.

“No, I didn't answer yet,” he smiled almost a little bashfully, “I didn't want to spoil your fun.”

That was exactly the answer Annie had hoped for. She flung herself off the couch table and onto Mitchell, hugging him hard enough to cut his chuckle short.

“You are the best! Can I read the texts?” she said and sat down next to him.

“If you promise me not to answer without my say.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die. Or, you know… promise,” Annie nodded earnestly.

“Alright,” Mitchell grinned whimsically while he fumbled his phone out of the jeans pocket. “Here you go.”

He handed her his phone which she grabbed so enthusiastically that it nearly slipped through her fingers. An excited giggle came out of her throat and Mitchell’s grin grew broader. Even though he still wasn’t on board with this idea as he assured himself. This was all to humour Annie.

“It's not exactly a great yield, though,” Mitchell added to spare her the disappointment in case she had anticipated heaps of responses.

“Oh, but there are five messages!” She looked up from the screen. “That's great! Let’s see.”

She tugged her legs under and leaned closer to Mitchell so they both could read the message.

“ _Dear 27 year old pub goer, I saw your ad and already like you!!!!_

_It would be great to hang out some time! I'm always up for a fun night!_

_Angelique”_

“Yeah...” Mitchell said, “Excessive use of exclamation marks aside she sounds moderately normal, doesn't she?”

“Well, I don't know…” Annie said and her voice dropped a few notes, “She seems a little eager, don't you think?”

Mitchell shrugged. “I imagined that to be the whole point.”

“I bet Angelique isn't her real name,” Annie gestured with the phone as she looked at Mitchell, “And no, the point is for you to meet _nice_ people, Mitchell, not some woman who wants to have… _fun_.”

“Mhm, I see,” Mitchell grinned, “You're not gonna like the next message, then.”

“Why wouldn't I?” Annie turned her attention back to the phone.

“Uuuh, a guy,” she threw Mitchell a meaningful glance and impatiently read the text while he leaned back on a cushion, propping his feet up on the table again.

“Hey stud,” Mitchell quoted from memory, shuddering a little, “I'm sure I'll find something for you to do with that slim but athletic built of yours.’”

Annie looked at him with her head tilted. “Maybe you’re misinterpreting that. Perhaps he wants to meet someone to do sports with. You could play pool together, you know,” she pointed out. “And he even sent an attachment with the second text, isn't that nice. Let’s see…”

Mitchell jolted up. “Oh no, don’t open that!”

He moved his long limbs surprisingly fast but his feet on the coffee table impaired his balance – he grabbed for the phone in Annie’s hands, nearly climbing over her to reach it. His gloved hands darted out but narrowly missed and by that time it was already too late.

“Oh wait, what...” Annie breathed in sharply and covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes grew wide as she still stared at the screen. “Why would he do this, Mitchell, I'm...”

“Oh god, Annie,” Mitchell babbled and finally managed to sort his body out, getting his hands on the phone, closing the… _indecent_ picture, “I'm so sorry, I didn’t… I…”

“You should be!” she said, the shocked look still sitting on her face, “I can't believe you didn't delete that already!”

“You guys said you didn't want me to delete anything!” Mitchell’s voice sounded a little too shrill in his own ears and he could feel a blush creep from his neck up to his cheeks.

“I wasn't going to keep it,” he added a little helplessly.

“I hope you weren't!” Annie scolded him, “It’s not even a nice…”

“I don’t want to discuss it,” Mitchell interrupted her, his cheeks entirely too warm for a vampire.

“What I’m saying is you can't meet him. Definitely not!” Two sharp shakes of her head decided it, curls bouncing determinedly around her face.

“And I thought he'd be the man of my dreams,” Mitchell said sarcastically.

Annie huffed. “Mitchell, I don't know how you can be so calm about it, it's disgusting.”

“I know and I'm very glad you see that lonely hearts ads attract crazy people.” He pressed a few buttons on his phone and showed her the empty screen.

“Here, look – deleted,” Mitchell added in a soft voice, “I promise the other messages don't have any extra info.”

“Thank you,” Annie said as dignified as possible. She slouched her shoulder and gave him an apologetic look. “You know, Mitchell, I didn't want to throw freaks at you. Just some nice decent folk.”

“I know,” Mitchell smiled, trying to cheer her up. It wasn’t her fault that perv considered him fair game and come to think of it he really should've spared her the picture. Then again, maybe this was what might cut this experiment short and let him off the hook.

Annie smiled back, bumping him lightly on the shoulder.

“Alright,” she said, back to her cheerful self, “What do we have next…”

 _No such luck, then_ , Mitchell thought, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Annie took Mitchell’s phone from his hands again, scrolling down until he found the next message.

“Another girl,” she proclaimed and read aloud, “’ _Hey there,_

_you seem to be an interesting man. Do you have time for a date on Saturday?_

_It would be a big fancy party and food and drinks are on the house. You don't have to stay all evening, but would be great if I could present you to some of my friends!_

_see ya_

_Liz’_

What do you think about her?”

“Trophy boyfriend,” Mitchell grinned.

“Oh no!” Annie exclaimed, “Sure? She doesn't even know how you look.”

“Which only shows her desperation, poor girl. Big fancy party sounds like a black tie event and while I do look good in a suit,” Mitchell answered Annie’s snort with a cheeky grin, “I don't like them very much. If you read between the lines I'm to be paraded as her boyfriend in front of her friends and maybe even family. So either she's got a terrible bunch of acquaintances who don't value her without a partner or she's covering up something or someone.”

“Mhm, seems about right,” Annie considered. “You’ve obviously thought about that already, you can’t tell me you don’t find those messages exciting,” she added smiling and nudged him into the side.

Mitchell shrugged as non-committal as possible. “Well, no, if you live as long as I have…”

“Oh come on, grandpa no-fun, you just can’t admit it.”

“It’s just that I’d rather go to the pub alone in jeans and boots than play dress-up,” Mitchell insisted.

“No, don't say that! We’re not done yet, mister,” she squeezed his arm playfully, “There’s one text left and maybe that's just the pub person.”

Mitchell shrugged, leaned back again and waved for her to go ahead. One more text and he'd be done.

“’ _Hey, I'm looking for exactly the same as you do. Nice people, someone to chat with, maybe have a couple of beers. I'm working a lot so after-work drinks and pub food would be awesome!_

_Maybe we can meet some time?_

_Anders (30y/o, PR manager)_ ’

Well, there you go! Pub and all.”

Mitchell grunted in response which didn’t do anything to dim Annie’s bright smile. “He sounds really nice! You should text him back.”

“He definitely seems to be the sanest of them all,” Mitchell agreed, “but texting back? I don't know... does that sound like ‘love of my life’ to you?” He nudged Annie and maybe the tiniest hint of hope snuck into his tone.

“You know, he doesn’t have to be,” Annie said gently, “but he could! So go ahead. There’s no harm in trying.”

Mitchell winked at her. “Mhm, ever the positive romantic.”

Her only answer was another bright smile as she motioned for him to start typing.

“Alright,” Mitchell agreed and a certain kind of giddiness started rummaging in his stomach. This whole newspaper business was definitely exhausting in its twists and turns. To be honest, Anders had been the one that sounded most appealing to him. Okay, the weirdness of the other messages probably elevated him but that smooth and unassuming phrasing convinced Mitchell – along with the fact that he even gave his age and job.

“’Hi Anders’…” Mitchell typed and read out aloud at the same time.

“Good start!” Annie nodded avidly, “Not creepy.”

“Says the ghost to the vampire,” Mitchell laughed.

Annie chuckled. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. Okay, how’s this? ‘Hi Anders, sounds great, I’d be up for it. When does it suit you? How do you feel about the _King’s Head_? Mitchell’”

“Sounds good. Friendly and to the point.”

Mitchell’s thumb hovered over the “send” button as he re-read his message again. That wasn’t too forward, was it? That Anders guy shouldn’t get the wrong impression. The pub should be fine for relaxed after-work drinks. He felt at ease there, he knew the surrounding and it wasn’t too far from his place. In case he wanted to bail, of course. Not the, uh, the other thing.

“You're already looking forward to it, I can see that!” Annie interrupted his thoughts with a grin.

 _Looking forward_ was definitely too optimistic. No, he was just considering how this evening might develop and yes, maybe he was a _little_ excited but that was only because this was something new for him. At least he hoped that his stern look conveyed all this to Annie.

“Tsk, don't be so sure,” he said and hit ‘send’.

Mitchell turned his phone in his hands. There were a couple of ways this could end up. Worst case scenario: he got stood up or the guy was terrible to talk to. Best case scenario: nice, easy-going, fun to hang out with and the he’d see what would happen. Realistic scenario: a couple of drinks, a bit of small talk and they’d never see each other again.

“If he looks creepy or just isn't my type I'll be out of there in a hot second and not even you can stop me,” Mitchell pointed at Annie with his phone.

“If it comes to this I won’t stop you, as promised. But I’m sure it won’t be necessary.”

“We'll see.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you!” Annie smiled and entirely disregarded Mitchell’s comment, “It’ll be great. He’ll be handsome and charming and I’ll come with you.”

“Yeah, about that…” Mitchell said slowly, “When you say you'll come with me what do you mean, exactly?”

“I will be there, waiting with you for the guy and help you if you don’t know what to talk about. I'm good at small talk!”

 _Oh god no_. “... but you're also dead.”

“So?" Annie tilted her head and creased her forehead, "I don't see your point.”

Before Mitchell could elaborate on the irritating glances normal people threw you when talking to a ghost his phone buzzed in his hands.

“Oh shit, that was quick,” he breathed and nervously unlocked the phone.

“He's also looking forward to your date,” Annie bounced once more, “what does he say?”

"’Hey Mitchell, sounds great. Are you free tomorrow night or is that too soon? Anders’"

“Wow, that man knows what he wants! Good thing we’ve got no plans,” Annie said and Mitchell cringed slightly at her use of the word _we_ , “Go write a response! He'll wait.”

“Do I agree to tomorrow?” Mitchell asked with doubt in his voice. He didn’t want to appear needy or too desperate. Come to think of it, though, the ad had probably established as much.

“Yeah, you do!” Annie insisted, “You haven't got a shift the morning after so the evening is all yours.”

“Seriously, all that feels way too planned,” Mitchell grinned nervously. “Okay. Tomorrow night, 7pm.”

“Yeah yeah, just tell him!” Annie was pretty much bubbling over with enthusiasm, grabbing Mitchell’s arm so hard that he resorted to typing with his left.

“On it...” Mitchell pressed the keyboard buttons in quick succession and hit send once more. “There. Happy?”

“YES!” Annie exclaimed, punching the air and giggling.

Mitchell smiled. “Good.”

“This is so exciting! We have a date. I’ll take a look at your clothes and find you something to wear for tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah…” Mitchell nodded, “Go right ahead.” Not that he had a choice and indeed, before his sentence was finished, Annie had already disappeared.

Mitchell shook his head and chuckled – a combination that adequately described the situation as well as his feelings on this crazy endeavour. It had been fun, reading the messages; he had to give Annie that. About that date, though… well, he’d show up a few minutes late and check out the guy from a safe distance first, assessing his creepiness from afar. Mitchell wasn’t half as convinced that his date would be ‘handsome and charming’ as Annie was hoping.

Then again, Anders also didn’t know what he was signing up for. Mitchell got his phone out once more.

“Btw, I’ll be the guy with the dark curls in the black jacket” he typed – that would remain, regardless of what Annie found and forced him to wear. That way they could steer clear of weird signs to recognise each other.

Mitchell got up and strolled into the kitchen to fix himself something to eat when his phone buzzed again.

_“It’ll be great to meet you. I’m the blond guy who looks out of place in his suit (coming directly from work). See you tomorrow :)”_

Blond and suited up, huh? Against his will Mitchell grinned broadly at the stupid little smiley. If Anders’ sense of humour also showed in person he should be easy to talk to. And actually, maybe, Mitchell was looking forward to tomorrow. A little.

 


	4. Two Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as the title promises...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is about as long as the previous chapters combined... be prepared for changing points of view and enjoy our boys meeting for the first time :)

The pub wasn't overly crowded but busy enough to give it the relaxed but buzzing atmosphere of an after-work party. Anders opened the door for Dawn and she entered the pub with sure steps, scanning the place immediately to figure out the main locations: bar, the restrooms for her secret leaving and a possible vantage point after this Mitchell character had appeared. She decided on a table in the middle of the room and picked the chair that faced the door and the large window next to it. Anders immediately went to the bar and came back a few minutes later, carrying two cups of coffee – much to Dawn's surprise and relief. She didn't want him to meet Mitchell in a state that would only lead to lewd comments once he figured out the set-up.

"So, Anders," Dawn stirred in her cup, "do you remember all the information about the client? You know, the file I gave you this morning together with your charged phone?"

Anders sipped at his coffee. "You said he's in his late 20s and has a start-up company?"

“Yes, 27 and wants to build some kind of furniture business," Dawn nodded and took a folder out of her purse, "I talked with his assistant on the phone but she didn't want to tell me exactly what they are up to. His ideas seem to be alright, but as always money is lacking."

She delivered her cover story smoothly and without hesitation; she was a pro, after all. The folder in front of her was largely empty though except for a few notes she had jotted down about this mysterious furniture guy. But knowing Anders well enough she had conceded that he probably wouldn't even want to look at the files to begin with.

"Furniture. Right. Let's hope he can afford us," Anders frowned, "Pub is a smart move then."

"Anders, _we_ can't afford to let any possible client slip through our fingers," Dawn replied with conviction.

Of course there was no deal to strike here but that didn't change the fact that Anders needed to sort out his priorities. She was planning on staying as normal as possible – and what was more usual than their discussions about priorities?

Unimpressed, Anders asked, "What's his name again?"

"James Mitchell."

That had been the difficult part about this plan. Dawn could hardly just give Anders a first name for a supposed business meeting. She had gone for the obvious: masking "Mitchell" as the last name and using a general first name so that Anders addressed him as Mr Mitchell. Sure, that wasn't ideal but at least the right name was out there in the open.

"Sounds like old English royalty," Anders grinned, "are you sure he doesn't have some old family treasure buried somewhere? Or owns a mansion, an old castle?"

"I don't know, maybe you can find out and use it to promote him," Dawn said with a sigh and took a sip from her coffee.

Anders nodded. "Consider it done."

"Thanks, Anders," Dawn smiled and tilted her head, "That's the professionalism I miss sometimes working for you."

Anders chuckled, throwing her a pitiful look. “Dawn, we’re meeting a hipster 20-something at a shady pub in Bristol. To talk about furniture. I hate to break it to you but we're a boutique company and not some big shot out there.”

"Big shot or small fish – we won't get anywhere when we're not even trying to be professional," Dawn pointed out gently. "Promise me to be your charming self, will you?"

“Of course. Don't worry, Dawnsie. I'm not trying to sabotage anything. Here's to a relaxed night and a successful contract.”

"To a successful evening," Dawn adjusted the toast and smiled back at her boss.

“When did you say he'd be here?” Anders asked with a look at his watch, “It's already past seven.”

“Well, he said around seven. I’m sure he won’t be long.” Just as the words had left Dawn’s lips a head with curly black hair appeared in the window next to the entrance, looking inside. That was her cue. “Give me a minute to freshen up a little. I'll be right back.“

“Sure...” Anders nodded.

 

* * * * * *

 

“Mitchell, can you see him already?” Annie hectically asked as she peered through the window.

The Irishman stared through the glass as inconspicuous as he could – luckily an assortment of vintage bottles, instruments and plants was put up on the window sill inside so he wouldn’t attract too much attention.

“I think it's him over there, table at the centre with his side to the entrance.” Mitchell narrowed his eyes. Blond, check, and he was wearing a suit. And indeed he looked a little out of place.

“I can't see him,” Annie craned her neck, “Can we go in? You don't know how long he's already been waiting. He might leave soon if we don't show up. We shouldn't have taken the bus.”

“Can’t I have a ciggie first?” Mitchell asked, “He'll suffer through 10 more minutes, we're almost on time.”

He fumbled a cigarette from a crumpled pack and placed it between his lips.

“No, Mitchell, you can smoke later,” Annie said while still looking through the window, “it's not polite to let someone wait.”

At the grating sound of the lighter she turned towards the Irishman. “Mitchell!”

“Calm down, Annie,” Mitchell inhaled and the tip of the cigarette lit up, “He won't leave right away. No one means seven when they say seven.”

“But he's there, at a table, waiting for you,” Annie pointed out and looked at him strictly.

“Alright…” Mitchell lifted his hands in a defeated gesture, looked down and took a deep drag before putting out the barely smoked cigarette. His hand felt uncomfortably empty now there was nothing to hold on to so he ran his right through his hair.

“Great, so let's go inside," Annie motioned for him to go ahead.

“Mhm.” Mitchell tugged at his jacket, throwing another glance through the window. “You go first.”

“Me? Why me? Are you… are you nervous?”

"No!" Mitchell shook his head vehemently, noticing too late that his voice was a bit too high to wrap his word in believably.

"No," he tried again, this time deeper, "It's so you can get a good look at him and then move out of earshot as we agreed.”

Annie hesitated and gave him the puppy-dog look – which went exceptionally well with her brown eyes. “You’re sure I can't stay for a few minutes? He can’t see me anyway and I would be really quiet…”

“Annie, please…" Mitchell's mind was made up, "I'll memorise everything to tell you later but I'd feel way too...” _judged_ , “distracted with you there.”

“I see," she relented, "Okay, it's your date after all.”

“It's a meeting,” Mitchell hastened to say, “but thanks.”

He opened the pub door for her and added a small courting gesture.

“Thank you," Annie smiled and walked towards Anders' table purposefully.

Mitchell trailed behind her and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. It wasn’t too late to bail, was it? This whole set-up was ridiculous anyway. The guy looked normal, yes, but Mitchell wasn’t so sure he wanted to talk to anyone right now. His stomach felt a bit queasy. Maybe it was that flu bug that made the rounds at the moment.

But then, Anders looked up, turned his head to the entrance and saw him. _That’s that_.

Mitchell kept behind Annie who gave Anders a smile and walked past the table. Once in Anders’ back, she turned to him and gave Mitchell two thumbs up. “He’s gorgeous!” she mouthed and walked to the bar, leaning casually next to two girls.

Annie was right, Mitchell thought as he deliberately didn’t react to her. The man sitting at the table _was_ handsome. A full, carefully trimmed beard, blue eyes that looked piercing even in the dim light of the pub and what looked like a compact built with broad shoulders.

A small shy smile tugged at the corners of Mitchell’s mouth as he walked up to the table.

“Hey... are you Anders?”

“Hi, yes, Anders Johnson," Anders stood up and shook his hand in a very… civil manner, "pleased to meet you. You're Mr. Mitchell? Take a seat.”

“Cheers,” he smiled and sat down. “Just Mitchell. Glad I didn't have to ask my way through the pub to find you. That would've been awkward.”

Mitchell pulled down the zipper of his jacket and shrugged it off to hang over the chair’s backrest. It was warm inside the pub but he decided to keep his fingerless gloves on – he felt exposed enough as it was. His gaze fell onto the empty cup of coffee that stood in front of him.

Anders had apparently noticed his confusion.

“My assistant will be back any minute and then we can start to talk business,” he said with a winning smile that showed dimples in the bearded cheeks, “Can I get you a drink in the mean time?"

“Your assistant...” Mitchell repeated only to realise Anders had asked him something. “Uhm... uh, yeah, a pint would be great,” he added and nodded.

Anders stood up, walked over to the bar and Mitchell couldn't help but check out his arse. _Those slacks sure fit._ He admired the confidence in the long strides for a moment before confusion caught up with him. Business? Assistant? Mitchell frowned. Maybe he had chatted up the wrong guy after all because that didn’t make a whole lot of sense. At least not to him and in the light of the easy messages they had exchanged. Annie hadn’t put anything weird in his ad, had she? Mitchell tilted his head and tried to recall the phrasing. All good, as far as he could remember. Well, who knew, maybe Anders was as nervous as he was and this was his way of coping. It was a strange situation after all and unfair to mark him down as a creep right away. And his dimples looked nice.

 

* * * * * *

 

Annie took another good look at Anders as he strode towards the bar, in her direction. And Mitchell had said that only creepy people answer lonely hearts ads! Smugly she looked Anders up and down as he ordered when one of the girls to her left dropped her glass. It broke on the wooden floor and just as Annie turned back to check on Mitchell, Anders bumped into her.

"Sorry," he said and smiled at her by way of apologising before he grabbed the pints and walked back to Mitchell.

Annie froze for a moment. Had he actually meant her when he had apologised? No, it couldn't be – she wasn't visible all of the sudden, was she? She turned to the bartender and experimentally tried to catch his attention by vaguely gesturing as if she wanted to order something.

Nothing.

"Excuse me," she said.

Annie shrugged. _Worth a try_. He must've bumped into the girl next to her after all – the space in front of the bar was quite crowded. She looked around for a better place to observe Mitchell and her eyes fell onto a small booth behind the bar, tucked in neatly between plants and old instruments. A young blonde woman was sitting there on the bench and Annie walked up to her.

"Hiya, mind if I join you?" she asked and the lack of reaction on the woman's part dispersed the last of her doubts. Still invisible.

The blonde took a sip from her drink and stared through two medium-sized gum trees, her eyes focussing on something in the main room of the pub.

"I won't bother you, I promise," Annie went on, "it's just you have such a perfect vantage point here. You know, my friend is on a date. Blind date actually... I set him up." She smiled self-contented and added, "Not to applaud myself but this Anders guy is really gorgeous."

The woman grabbed around the stem of her wine glass and turned it in her hand. "This is never going to work..." she muttered under her breath.

"Hm? What is?" Annie asked, more out of habit than anything else. "Ohh... wait…"

She placed herself closer to the blonde, following her line of vision.

"I don't know how I came up with this…" the woman went on, clearly addressing no one but herself.

"Are you..." Annie narrowed her eyes as she tried to find out what that woman was looking at. A loud yet unheard laugh escaped Annie's throat as she realised exactly where her line of vision ended: at the table occupied by Mitchell and Anders.

"No way!" Annie exclaimed, "You are spying on them! So I guess that means you're Anders' chaperone?"

What were the odds! This date was getting better by the minute, especially seeing that the blonde was prone to talking to herself. Annie took a closer look at the woman to discern any kind of insignia to be sure and maybe find out a bit more about Mitchell's blind date. Carefully, she inspected the woman's purse from where a folder and a packet of business cards peeked out.

"Let me see..." Annie looked at the imprint on the folder, "J:PR. Anders Johnson, PR Manager. Ha!"

"That wasn't one of my better ideas," the woman suddenly grumbled, eyes still fixed on the two men, "I hope it works out at least a bit… Otherwise, I should probably take this holiday Anders is always talking about, there could be worse a time…"

"Look at us both," Annie exclaimed and checked one of the cards, "Dawn, taking care of our boys!" She giggled happily and leaned forward on the table, keeping her eyes alternating between Dawn and said boys.

"Mmh, they seem to get along quite well, by now they should have figured out the set up…" Dawn frowned and took a sip of her white wine.

"You didn't tell him it's a date?" Annie asked. Sneaky, that woman. She took a closer look at the folder, her fingers opening the flap carefully to read out the notes on the sheet of paper.

"James Mitchell... well, close enough. His name is actually John Mitchell but ever since he became a vam-, uh, I mean, he prefers Mitchell," Annie said, blushing, before remembering that Dawn couldn't actually hear her.

That didn't keep the blonde from talking, though. "I didn't even give him Mitchells full name… but on the other hand no one is as good as Anders in talking his way out of the most... difficult...situations.."

"Don't worry, Dawn, Mitchell is quite the charmer when he wants to be," Annie nodded, "Anders will find out soon enough." She took another look at the folder. "Dressing it up as a business meeting, hm? I like your style!"

Annie looked over to their table. It was difficult to tell but so far, the two men seemed to click. At least Mitchell appeared to be talking and smiling.

"See, they're getting along well! You know, I don't want to be rash but I think Mitchell is quite taken with Anders," Annie said and just about stopped herself from nudging Dawn.

"Anders seems to be at ease…" Dawn mumbled and sipped on her wine, "and this Mitchell bloke really is nice to look at, all dark and handsome. Anders could do worse... and he has by what I know," she scoffed.

"Aw, that's so nice of you to say!" Annie smiled at Dawn, "Your Anders is quite the eye candy as well, if I may say so. You know, I even made Mitchell wash his hair and put on a decent shirt."

"I hope he's not just doing the usual…" Dawn went on and Annie listened closely, "flirting, drinking, an intense night and I'm the one suffering from his moods in the morning... midday, if he even has the decency to show up."

"Intense, huh?" Annie grinned and lifted one eyebrow before remembering what she was hoping for, "Well, I think we're onto something, Dawnsie. I don't want Mitchell to just... you know, take him home either. I mean yeah, go for it, have your fun, sure. But the actual idea was finding people to meet a second time. He's been hanging around the house so much lately I was a bit worried that he'd be... lonely."

Dawn tilted her head. "Maybe just this time he just clicks with a person and they _just_ share a beer or two and maybe even meet again. I mean I'm not asking for much, and he can be charming and nice when he's in a mood, that shouldn't be impossible…"

Annie nodded avidly. "Exactly, Dawn, that's my plan too! I'm so glad we met, I can feel it, _this_ is great," she gestured in the air between them to indicate a connection. "If the boys get along as well as we are there's no way this will end badly. Seems like they are both insufferable flirts so why shouldn't it work? You know that saying, takes one to know one? I think it's a good thing, quite the dynamic I'm sensing there," Annie babbled on.

"Well, we'll see…" Dawn murmured, "they look rather like day and night though. But maybe it takes a difference to Anders usual ... prey to make this work."

Annie snorted. "Mitchell is a lot of things, trust me, but prey? Definitely not. Night, yes, that's actually more accurate than you dare to hope, Dawn…."

While Annie was chatting on, Dawn's phone buzzed and Annie could just about tuck the folder back to the way it was before the blonde reached for her purse. She took out her mobile, smiled faintly to the screen and glanced over to the table.

"They will get along," she shrugged, "if he needs me, he'll call anyway." With that, Dawn emptied her glass.

"Oh, you're leaving already?" Annie asked, "Well, I'll make sure our boys behave! It was great meeting you, Dawn. I'll see you around, bye!"

Annie waved at her as Dawn took her purse and coat, carefully moving out of the pub without being seen by Anders.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“There you go,” Anders’ voice interrupted Mitchell's thoughts as he came back from the bar, carrying two pints of beer.

“Thanks,” Mitchell smiled and took a sip.

Before he could use any of his carefully planned conversation starters, however, Anders began to talk.

“So, you are trying to start a furniture company?” the blond asked him, his blue eyes piercing Mitchell’s in interest.

“Uh, no, not in the near future,” Mitchell answered with a grin. _That is quite the ice_ _breaker_. It definitely put all his ‘did you get here okay’ and ‘glad we could meet so soon’s to shame.

“I had a few run-ins at Ikea though,” Mitchell relaxed, picked up the thread Anders had started, “so maybe they could use some competition.”

This was good! Easy banter, exactly up his street.

Anders drew his eyebrows together and his handsome face took on a slightly puzzled expression. “They definitely could.”

Then, his smile was back in place. “So, Mitchell, how can I help you, when it's not in the furniture business?” He winked at the Irishman and his dimples became deeper.

 _He must look stunning when he laughs from the heart._ The thought hit Mitchell’s brain out of nowhere.

“I'm good at the moment...” he answered Anders’ question, “not in need of any kind of help, really. Just glad you didn't stand me up and that I’ve got a chance to meet you.”

Mitchell gave him a warm smile as he fiddled with his glass. It was true – he had never expected someone as smartly dressed as Anders to show up to such a date. Meeting. Dammit.

“Well, maybe we just start with you telling me a little about yourself and we can figure out what I can offer?” Anders suggested, his lips curled up in an easy smile, and Mitchell nearly choked on a mouthful of beer.

 _Offer?_ Maybe his ad had actually been code for finding a quick lay. Mind you, he still could do a lot worse. Had, actually.

“Well... as you can probably hear I'm not originally from Bristol,” Mitchell said, trying to get a feeling for the kind of thing Anders wanted to talk about.

Anders nodded. “That might be a starting point, it's always important to know one’s roots. So where do come from? Your accent is quite… distinctive.”

“Ireland,” Mitchell smiled, “a tiny village in the middle of nowhere. Just as you might imagine, sheep, green hills, the sea rolling against rough cliffs - the whole romance-cover deal.”

This coaxed another dimpled smile from Anders as he took a sip from his drink.

“No one tells you about the bloody cold, though,” Mitchell added, winking shortly, “so take it from me: if you go here in spring don't be fooled by the sun and make sure you pack enough clothes to wear in layers. And don't forget a beanie.”

Anders’ dimples deepened, much to Mitchell’s delight. “I’ll remember that. It sounds charming and very idyllic. Is that the picture you want to convey? We can definitely work with that image of yours.”

He gestured in a way that indicated another possibility, “Or do you want to change your appearance to something a little more modern and fresh? Both would be possible.”

“My appearance?” Mitchell asked and tilted his head.

“You know, I quite like it," Anders went on, "I think it fits.”

Utterly confused now, Mitchell looked at his button-down. “Thanks... “

What the hell was Anders getting at? Okay, Annie had insisted that he wore the green-black plaid but how they had gone from Ireland to clothes was beyond him.

“But how about yourself?” Mitchell asked quickly to overcome this weird moment of confusion. “Are you from Bristol originally?"

“Me?“ Anders repeated, looking at him genuinely surprised, “Well, no, I'm not. New Zealand. I think my accent gives me away, as yours does.”

He smiled at Mitchell and somehow, the Irishman felt that this was a lot more honest that the smiles before. Seems like he was warming to him – if the little flirty edge was anything to go by.

“I was wondering about that,” Mitchell nodded and laughed. “I was gonna say Australia but good thing I kept _that_ quiet.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t hold a grudge,” Anders shrugged with a grin, “but their accent always sounds evil in my ears.”

“Right,” Mitchell laughed, “but fancy us expats reading the same paper and sharing a pint. That's quite the distance we're bridging.”

“Sharing a drink is never wrong. Alcohol connects people, doesn’t it?” Anders laughed openly now and Mitchell noticed the little crinkles around his eyes and his nose. _Called it. Bloody gorgeous_.

“Too true,” Mitchell grinned back. And alcohol might be his friend to make this conversation move smoother and maybe end somewhere else.

For a second, Anders looked around the pub with a searching expression.

“Do you drink with your PR clients then to connect and squeeze every dirty little secret out of them, Anders?” Mitchell asked to regain the blond’s attention. The flirty sound and the use of his name definitely did it – Anders looked at him with an open expression and tilted his head in consideration.

“Some need more drinks than others to loosen up a bit. After all it’s my duty to find out what they really want me to help them,” the grin Anders shot him ignited something in Mitchell’s imagination, “And with some it's even fun to share a pint or two.”

“Sounds like you picked the right job then,” Mitchell said and emptied his pint.

“Yeah, I did,” Anders nodded, “But now let’s talk a bit more about your work. I mean, the quicker we’re done with business the faster we can do something else.”

If that didn’t sound promising… Anders' direct approach was probably not what Annie had hoped for but Mitchell found himself impressed by it. And who was he to pass up on a man who knew what he wanted?

Mitchell made his voice sound a little rougher and added a slow smile. “Oh, my work isn't exactly interesting so maybe we can move on to 'something else' right away.”

He hadn't anticipated the frown that clouded Anders' face all of the sudden. “But wasn't that why we have a meeting in the first place?” the blond asked, baffled.

“What do you mean?”

“Your work...You wanted my help with an image for your furniture company, didn't you?”

So they were back to square one? Well, it shouldn’t be said that he couldn’t keep up with a joke. But even for an understated sense of humour Anders sounded very convinced.

“As I said, I don't have a furniture company,” Mitchell laughed.

“You’re serious?” Anders asked.

“Yeah…” the Irishman hesitated, his humour falling short. Why exactly were they talking about furniture again?

Anders placed his hands on the edge of the table and nervously drummed a pattern while looking around the pub once more.

“Listen, mate…” Mitchell started carefully, “Are you okay? You seem... driven.”

That was putting it mildly. All banter and easy demeanour had vanished from Anders and as a consequence Mitchell tensed up as well. He couldn’t recall having said anything offensive or disrespectful that would justify Anders’ sudden change in behaviour.

“You don’t have a business,” the blond stated and sized him up, making Mitchell shift under the blue eyes.

“Well, no.”

“Did you talk to Dawn and arrange this meeting?”

“Who? I’m sorry… I don’t know Dawn," Mitchell said carefully, "Is that some kind of joke I'm not getting?”

“You and me both, I should think.” Anders shook his head.

Mitchell was getting more nervous by the second. It had started out so well – how could it go to shit over a furniture discussion? He had anticipated a fair share of awkwardness but it hadn’t even been that bad. Anders had seemed a charming guy, he was easy on the eyes, but by now Mitchell felt like walking on eggshells around him.

“Listen, Anders, if you don't want to stay it's fine...” he said, trying for a smile, “just say so, no hard feelings. But please don't mock me. The whole lonely hearts ad set-up is embarrassing enough.”

“I'm not mocking y..? What?” Anders stared at him, eyes wide, “Lonely Hearts ad? Why would somebody need a newspaper ad to get laid? Why are we talking about that?”

Mitchell huffed. “I don't need an ad to get... wait, what?” _This is fucking weird_. “You didn’t read the ad?”

“What ad?” Anders asked impatiently.

None of that made any sense at all. How the hell did Anders even show up here, knowing his name and all? Mitchell tried to piece together this puzzle of weirdness but the further he thought about it the more absurd the whole situation became. Across the table he could see that Anders’ thoughts were attempting the same thing. Mitchell chuckled in confusion – which prompted a stirring in his stomach where a proper, loud belly laugh grew. Here they were, both set up by a woman close to them, both probably not by their own free will and equipped with different levels of input. Mitchell’s chuckle turned into a small laugh he tried to keep as silent as possible but somehow, it became louder with every breath. Anders didn’t seem to be making much sense of their meeting either. His nose was crinkled, his eyebrow raised in question, his lips pressed together while his right stroked through his beard. Mitchell’s suppressed laugh turned into a grin with a weird gurgling sound from deep in his throat. His stomach quivered in an attempt to hold back but about the time Anders’ nose-crinkle intensified Mitchell completely lost it. He howled with laughter at Anders’ cute confused-face, at the situation, at himself, throwing his head back so fast that is sent his curls flying and his body sliding down in his chair. Too late he realised that Anders didn’t join in.

“Oh please, take your time, I can wait a little longer till I know the reason for your oh-so-big-fun,” Anders said sarcastically in between two waves of laughter that rolled through Mitchell.

Mitchell gasped. “Sorry…. It’s just… in plain English: why are you here?”

He wiped tears from his eyes and tried to contain the rest of his laughing fit lest Anders felt mocked.

“I'm here cause my assistant, who doesn't feel the need to join me in this meeting, arranged a business appointment with you and your assistant,” Anders said pointedly, “You want me to work for you as a PR manager. Do you think we just met by accident?!”

“Not by accident...” Mitchell shook his head, processing Anders’ words. “Oh shit. This will sound totally crazy to you.”

“Surprise me,” Anders said unimpressed.

“Alright... a friend of mine put a lonely hearts ad in the paper for me because... well, she did. And it got printed in yesterday's issue.” A chuckle escaped his lips at which Anders only nodded with a stern expression.

“Go on.”

“You responded to it, saying you'd like to meet me and have a drink. You sounded normal so I agreed. And this is why we're... well, why I'm here.”

Anders only looked at him with a blank expression.

 _He thinks I’m taking the piss_. Mitchell felt for the blond – after all, he had experienced that same emotion just a moment before. It sounded pretty unbelievable to begin with… especially since Anders had to stomach the whole lonely hearts ad thing. As Mitchell had thought at first: not the guy to answer such an ad. With determined fingers, the brunet fumbled his phone from the jeans pocket. Four quick moves later he pushed the phone across the table.

“Didn't you write these messages?” Mitchell asked.

Anders gave him another strange look but pulled the phone towards him, scanning the screen quickly.

“Nope. Not mine. But they have been sent from my phone… this is strange,” he shook his head and pushed the mobile back. “I lost my phone the day before yesterday. Someone could have… Dawn.” His expression became rigid. “You gotta be kidding me.”

Mitchell raised an eyebrow in question. “So I’ve been texting with your assistant?” Good thing he had kept it casual.

“Ex-assistant. Where…” he looked around the pub once more and now his earlier demeanour started to make sense to Mitchell. “Great, she’s gone. She fucking set me up and left. Can you believe it?” Anders’ voice hitched a bit, “This is… fucking hell, there goes the Christmas bonus.”

Anders seemed genuinely upset. Any trace of the pretty dimples was gone and his lips were pressed together as he stared at Mitchell.

The Irishman shrugged sheepishly. “This is weird. Are you leaving right away or can I buy you a pint to soften the shock? Least I can offer…”

“I'm… yeah,” Anders sighed, gesturing half in annoyance, half in resignation, “I think I can stay for another beer. I'm here now anyway.”

With a quick move he got out his phone as Mitchell stood up. The small smile he gave the blond remained unseen.

Jeez, this was confusing as hell, Mitchell thought as he sauntered over to the bar, trying to buy a few more minutes of wrapping his head around this scenario. And he had thought that putting an ad in the paper was a mean move – well, Annie clearly had nothing on Anders' assistant. Good for her, Dawn?, to make a quick getaway. He gestured the bartender to bring him two more pints and looked over to Annie who had sat down in a booth around the corner. He gave a helpless shrug to which Annie nodded enthusiastically. Well, at least one of them was convinced this was working.

Two glasses appeared in front of him. Mitchell paid the bill with a crumpled bank note, grabbed the pints and walked back to the table. Anders sat there much like Mitchell had left him: tense in his rigid posture, his confusion replaced by ill-contained annoyance. He was staring into his phone, his fingers darting over the screen as his frown deepened. _I certainly don’t want to be in Dawn’s shoes right now._

Mitchell cleared his throat as he put a fresh pint in front of Anders and sat back down.

"I'm sorry I'm not the guy with the furniture shop," he said with a crooked smile, trying to lighten the mood again. It had worked before so why shouldn’t they be able to tie in with their earlier banter? Unless, of course, everything up until this point had been a faked business farce and that pissed-off-Anders in front of him was the real deal.

Anders tore his eyes away from his phone, looked up at Mitchell and shrugged. "It's not your fault you're not into that kind of thing. It sounded boring anyway. Thanks for the beer, mate."

"Sure," Mitchell nodded, "Cheers."

And there it was, the awkward pause Mitchell had tried to keep at bay from the moment he had walked in. Not that he was usually prone to them – this time, however, Mitchell couldn't think of anything to say. It was obvious that any kind of joke on their situation fell flat. Otherwise they had switched to shots about ten minutes ago and laughed their way through the awkwardness. This didn’t seem to be a possibility anymore as Mitchell started to understand. Somehow, their basis was gone, as weird and inaccurate as it had been. He wracked his brain to start their conversation anew but Anders was busy typing away on his phone again.

The blond sent another message and threw the mobile on the table with a sigh, one hand rubbing though his beard. “Seriously, the nerve on that woman.”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean you harm,” Mitchell said in an attempt to calm Anders down but the frown on his handsome face told him that he’d taken the wrong direction there.

“I’m sitting here like a fucking idiot thanks to her,” Anders grumbled, “And… you… you’re cheated just as much as me.”

 _I wouldn’t put it that way._ Anders was still here, wasn’t he? And while it was… unconventional they could still spend a nice evening if the blond decided to just let it go.

Anders took a sip from his beer, glancing at his phone that refused to make a sound.

"Ok, you know what," he said and put the glass back on the table with a determined move, "you're right. This is weird. I better go."

 _So much for that._ Mitchell watched him shove his chair back, putting the phone back into his pocket and grabbing his scarf.

"I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable," the Irishman said, "for what it's worth I didn't mean to."

"No, you didn't!" Anders slung his scarf around his neck, "it's just the whole situation… and you seem to be a nice guy, it's just…" He trailed off and grabbed his jacket, "Well, I don't know… As I said, it's not your fault."

He threw Mitchell an apologetic look. "There’s an assistant I need to have a word with… Sorry. I'll be off now. Enjoy your evening."

"Yeah... okay. Sure," Mitchell nodded, "take care."

Anders nodded one last time at him, almost out the door already. "Alright, yeah," he said, visibly distracted, and rushed off.

Mitchell sighed. It's not like he had had too high hopes about a meeting that stemmed from an ad but this had definitely been different. Anders had been attractive and clever and… well, too good to be true, if he was honest. Still, just leaving like that really cheated him out of an evening he thought would end differently. Mitchell stared at Anders' barely touched pint. Well, he knew when he had lost.

"Mitchell," Annie whispered in his ear and Mitchell nearly jumped in surprise, "What's wrong, what happened?! It all went so well and you seemed to have a good time and enjoy his company…"

"Yeah... and then he walked out on me," Mitchell said and wished his voice would sound less bitter. "Let's sit down over there," he grabbed his pint, walking over to the booth Annie had occupied before.

"So? What went wrong?" Annie wanted to know, her tone making clear how sorry she felt for Mitchell.

"Turns out it wasn't him who answered the ad but his assistant or something. He was under the impression that we had a business meeting. He got set up, felt bloody uncomfortable once he realised, acted awkwardly and stormed off." Mitchell leaned back in his chair, stretching out his long legs.

"But you seemed to click…" Annie said, "I'm so sorry, Mitchell! It really looked promising and like a good time."

"We had a good time," Mitchell nodded, "it was a little weird, you know, his talk of business but I figured he's nervous and covers it up or something. Hell, he thought I had a furniture company, can you believe it?" He chuckled, uneasiness swallowing up the humour.

Annie nodded sympathetically. "You know, I actually sat next to a woman from his PR company, Dawn."

“She set him up, hm? He figured that one out pretty soon.” Mitchell lifted an eyebrow. “That woman must have nerves of steel. That's not something you do to your friends. I mean, setting someone up and going through with the false pretence? Jeez." Mitchell whistled through his teeth.

“But she was really nice,” Annie replied, “and she seemed to care about Anders. She was muttering to herself and it turns out she didn't want him to just have a one-night-stand but a good conversation, you know. We nearly wanted the same, it could have been perfect…" Her voice trailed off in a distressed shake of her head.

"Yeah, well, maybe you should go out with her..." Mitchell joked despite himself and shrugged.

He took a swig of his pint and put it back on the table a little too hard. "You know what pisses me off? The fact that it _was_ nice. It's just stupid that he didn't just laugh it off. I mean, the situation is more than weird, yeah I get that. But storming off without even finishing his drink?"

Annie squeezed his arm in sympathy. "Mitchell, it's not about you! You don't know the man. He could have had a really bad day and maybe this… incident... was just the final straw. It could be."

"I suppose you're right..." Mitchell murmured and fiddled with his glass.

"Another night he might have just laughed about it. Maybe someone else will answer the ad and you can try again. It's not your fault. Cheer up for me, yeah?" She smiled that sweet smile of hers.

Mitchell smiled back, "I might take a break from blind dates for a couple days."

Annie nodded understandingly. "If you want, we can spend a nice evening together. What do you want to do? It's still early."

"Hm... it _is_ early," Mitchell considered, "I don't know... I guess I'll just have another beer and head home. You don't have to sacrifice your evening for me, Annie. I know you're meeting Gilbert later."

"It's no sacrifice, Mitchell," she said and sounded nearly offended. "I can meet Gilbert some other time."

"You're really sweet, Annie, thanks," Mitchell smiled at her, "but it's alright, really. Tell Gilbert I said hi."

"But I don't want to go out knowing you sit here all on your own…"

Mitchell gave her the most reassuring smile he could muster, "I'll be fine! I'll see you tomorrow, back at the house."

"Hm, alright," Annie nodded, "but promise me you don't brood through the evening. Treat yourself to something."

"Yes, I promise," Mitchell solemnly nodded and shushed her playfully, "Now go and have fun!"

"Okay, okay, I'm already on my way," Annie laughed and eluded Mitchell's gesture, "See you tomorrow, Mitchell.”

With that, she was gone.

 


	5. Another!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders realises that walking out maybe wasn't the smartest move.

Anders rushed out of the pub and into the chilly spring night. He looked around, trying to spot Dawn’s car but to no avail – even as he walked up and down the street there was no sign of his assistant. _Shit_. She had _actually_ left him here, dropped off like a fucking child on a play date. Anders grumbled and ran his hand through his hair while looking up and down the street. _What did just happen_? She fucking denounced him in front of that Mitchell-guy. And he had laughed. Straight up laughed when he had realised. Anders shook this unpleasant memory as fast as possible. He wouldn’t be taken for a fool from a guy in a flannel shirt. What was it with people today?! Anders got out his phone again only to see that Dawn hadn’t replied to any of his messages. Of course not. Well, he probably had been a bit harsh but fucking hell, he was the boss here and who the hell did she think she was? Setting him up with a bloody alibi and something as stupid as _furniture_ to begin with… they would have a very serious conversation soon _._

 _I should shorten her holiday or maybe just allow her to have lunch when this oh-so-lovely stupid little bakery with the sugar-coated somethings is already closed_.She had even nicked his phone and written messages. To Mitchell. On impulse, Anders looked over his shoulder to the pub and saw the brunet still sitting there, apparently muttering to himself and staring down the bottom of his pint. Texting _him_? He didn’t interfere in Dawn’s life like that and it absolutely wasn’t her place to do that to him. Why the hell did she do it anyway? Maybe it was revenge on her part for the lost phone. Dawn didn’t have a mean streak, though, usually… Had Dawn been there to watch him lose his face? Was that the satisfaction she took from this comedy of errors? Or tragedy, rather.

“Dawnsie, what the hell were you thinking,” he muttered and looked around the empty street once more, huffing in annoyance. Well, he wouldn’t find out until tomorrow seeing that she wasn’t answering her phone _or_ making any attempt of showing up.

Why would she set him up with this Irish guy? Not that he was too bad, mind you that smile was really captivating and he had a charming way about him. But there wasn’t a business opportunity here and if Dawn wanted him to meet people, for whatever reason, this hint was still in poor taste. Really, Dawn? A guy who had put a fucking lonely hearts ad in the paper? Well, his “friend” had, or so he had said. Anders shortly wondered what the ad had said. Did a guy like him even need one? And if yes – why? Mitchell was undeniably attractive, despite the hobo-look and the weird gloves. Not someone he would mark down as desperate or needy.

Seriously though, this wasn’t okay. Dawn could at least have the courtesy to come up with a better cover story. Or just tell him right away, how about that? Not that he had agreed to that meeting but still, he had taken her for an honest person. Apparently, he had wildly underestimated her. Against his will a certain sense of acknowledgement rose in his mind. _Well_ _played, Dawn. But not well enough_. He was the scheming party in their business relationship and it should bloody well stay that way.

Anders walked up and down the street, this time not to locate Dawn but to get a grip on the thoughts rushing through his head. What a farce. He should just get the next cab and get home or, even better, have a drink somewhere. Wash down the unpleasant incident. It was only when Anders looked around for a cab that he realised that no car had come his way the entire time he had spent outside. A short call to a cab agency told him that they were fully booked because of some football game and Bragi just didn’t work via the phone. _Oh, for fuck’s sake_. He should’ve been weary to begin with when Dawn had told him they’d meet in this part of town. Even Olaf would grow old waiting for a cab around here. Anders sighed. He was effectively trapped in front of that fucking pub. Well, at least it was a pub and not a church. There was beer on tap and as long as he didn’t touch the nibbles on the counter he should be fine.

He turned his phone in his hands for a moment. There was still a drink with his name on it inside but Mitchell had bought it and if he went back in he would see him. And that had all kinds of potential for awkwardness, seeing that he had just walked out on him. But for all the unanswered questions and the whole bloody situation the meeting hadn’t been too bad, Anders thought. Before he had felt ridiculed and they had figured out the set-up, that was. It had been easy to talk to Mitchell… somehow he had disarmed Anders’ PR mask and if he was honest he had flirted more than he usually did with potential clients. Mitchell also hadn’t laughed about him, Anders remembered as he recalled the scene – their overall confusion had been source of his admittedly gorgeous laughter than anything else. Okay, maybe he hadn’t ridiculed him but had tried to gloss over their situation. _I may have misjudged his reaction_. Perhaps he should just go back in, make the best of a strange evening. If all else fails he could always bragi the guy and start anew.

“Fuck it,” Anders said out loudly, turned around and walked back into the pub with firm steps.

He looked to the table they had occupied earlier only to see two people sitting there – none of whom was Mitchell. He may have left already, Anders thought with a twinge of disappointment, while he was outside looking for Dawn. But wouldn’t that require him walking past... Anders shrugged lightly. Well, okay, that was that then. Drink only, without the conversation. He turned to the bar when he spotted a dark curly head in the back of the pub, almost hidden by two large plants. _Jackpot_. Casually, he drew closer to Mitchell. Indeed he was alone in his booth, his legs stretched out in front of him. The intensity with which the brunet stared into his pint made Anders hesitate. If he was properly pissed off he should perhaps leave the man alone… intense emotions like these were hard work, even for Bragi.

But then Mitchell looked up and his eye caught Anders’, deciding for him. Anders placed his easy PR smile on his lips, walking up to the booth in long strides.

Mitchell watched him come closer and drew his dark eyebrows together. “Forgot something?” he asked in a gruff voice.

“Yeah…” Anders tried for an apologetic smile in high hopes to crack Mitchell’s grumpiness on the spot, “actually, I forgot to finish my beer, if you don't mind?”

The frown intensified as Mitchell sized him up. “Is that right?” he asked slowly, “Looked like you knew just what you were doing when you rushed out.”

Jesus, that was an intense look, all eyebrows and dark eyes. Anders tried his best to keep from squirming under the attention he was receiving.

“Well, that's the thing with rushing somewhere. Sometimes you forget things…” He shrugged ruefully. “Sorry about the hasty retreat. I was a little overwhelmed.”

“Figured as much,” Mitchell said, his voice still not betraying whether he accepted Anders’ excuse or no. He nodded to the chair opposite him. “Sit down.”

Anders did as he was told and shrugged off his coat and scarf. “Thanks.”

“Looks like I need to get you a new beer you can actually finish,” Mitchell pointed out and moved to get up.

“No, wait, I'll go,” Anders stretched out his hand and touched Mitchell’s arm, “the next round is on me. Consider it a peace offering.”

The frown eased up a bit. “Sounds fair.”

Anders got up and threw a small smile Mitchell’s way before walking past him to the bar. No need for Bragi yet – he could crack that one by himself as it seemed. He took the pints and set one in front of Mitchell who had just finished his other glass.

“Cheers,” Mitchell murmured and Anders thought that he could detect the hint of a smile on his face. They just needed to get back to the dynamic they had before and it would be fine. The way there couldn’t be too far. There were plenty of things to talk about except furniture, like…

“So tell me, Anders...” Mitchell’s voice interrupted his attempts at locating a conversation starter, “what was that all about? Or rather what made you turn back and grace me with your presence?”

Anders hesitated a moment. Mitchell still looked stern, aloof in the way he tilted his head but his words rang with gentle teasing. Maybe that was his resting face.

“Seeing that this evening was nice despite our… misunderstanding I figured why not end it in a more pleasant way than drinking on my own and cursing my maybe ex-assistant,” Anders answered as easily as possible.

That drew a smile from Mitchell. “Ex-assistant, hm? Quite the stunt she pulled. Did you really think I was in the furniture business?”

“I did before I knew you,” Anders replied, watching Mitchell ease up, “Why not? People do all kinds of things for a living. Believe me, in PR you've seen it all one day.”

Mitchell’s smile became a bit more open. “Sounds like it.” He took a swig from his drink and asked, “That's why you're not that weirded out about the ad thing?”

Anders shrugged. “Yes, I guess. And you don't seem to be a creep which helps a lot as well.” Making sure to show how these words were meant he added a short wink and lo and behold, the last remains of severity left Mitchell’s face.

“You don't know what the ad said,” he pointed out and flashed him a full grin.

 _From Broodster McBroodson to a fucking ray of sunshine in a split second_. That had to be some sort of record, Anders thought, and felt a smile tugging at the sides of his mouth.

“That's true,” Anders nodded, watching Mitchell’s grin turn wicked.

“I might be into all sorts of kinky stuff.”

Anders smirked. “And are you?”

A short but amused laugh came out of Mitchell’s throat, the tamer brother of that full-blown laugh he had sported earlier. _Here we go_. If that wasn’t a good sign.

“Wouldn't you like to know…” Mitchell grinned, “nah mate, I appreciate your boldness but you'll have to find that out the old fashioned way.”

“Sounds promising,” Anders answered, looking at him from under his lashes.

Mitchell scoffed in good humour and the blond started to feel at ease. Seemed like the brunet was definitely up for a bit of a laugh and flirting – that was more than Anders had dared hope for without using Bragi’s honeyed words. His cab-less fate might not be all bad.

“But the Ireland story was true?” Anders asked, genuinely interested now. Somehow, he wanted to find out who this guy was, this mysterious stranger who announced himself in the paper.

“Yeah,” Mitchell nodded, “Just not into furniture.”

“What do you do for a living then?”

“As I said, nothing particularly interesting. I work at the hospital, cleaner and porter with awful shifts.” A cheeky grin. “I’ve got access to drugs as my ad may or may not have said.”

Anders laughed. “I should really get my hands on that particular piece of writing. Sounds intriguing.”

“That's the only thing intriguing about it, trust me,” Mitchell said with a smile, “But it's fine, pays the bills. Speaking of which, my shout,” Mitchell added and moved to the bar.

“Maybe you know Michele?” Anders asked when he returned with two pints in his hands, “She works at the hospital as well. We’re acquainted in a way.”

Mitchell crunched up his face in thought and took a sip of his beer. “Michele... mhm... don’t know… Is she a nurse?”

“No, she calls herself a doctor. But with her you can never be sure,” Anders shrugged, delighted at the laugh that he coaxed out of Mitchell’s throat.

“Sounds like you keep interesting company,” the Irishman said with a meaningful look.

“Yeah, some,” Anders smiled, “but mostly just the boring normal people everyone knows.”

“You know, I don't believe you,” Mitchell shot him with an inquiring look, “Your assistant seems special. Do you know why she made you meet me?”

 _Oh yeah, Dawn_. As of tonight she definitely deserves a place on the ‘interesting company’ list. Also on the one putting down ‘People who deserve to be tripped’.

“Actually, no, I don't,” Anders frowned as his earlier thoughts came back, “I already thought about that. For now, my best guess is that she wants to get back at me for losing my phone the other night and making her retrieve it. I don't know. It's not her usual behaviour though.”

“What's she usually like? Less vengeful?”

Anders considered that and laughed. “Not necessarily, no. But mostly she just threatens me and doesn't execute her plans.”

“Jaysus, that's quite the dynamic you guys have there.”

“But it works. I think if she didn't kick my ass sometimes we would definitely get less work done…” Anders smiled.

It was true though – without Dawn his company wouldn’t fare half as well as it did. Someone had to be the one to think things through… and she usually did. Come to think of it, maybe this set-up hadn’t been too random or vicious. A side glance to his phone told Anders that she still hadn’t replied but at this stage he didn’t really mind all that much. Things were moving smoothly with Mitchell and he was actually enjoying himself.

“Maybe you deserve it?” Mitchell asked with a sympathetic tilt of his head.

“Well, no, I think I have done nothing out of the ordinary…” He frowned and added a slow “maaaybe. I don't know, shouldn't there be a little more... respect for her boss?”

“No idea...” Mitchell shrugged, “I work in an environment that is built on strict hierarchies and I can't say that I respect many of the people around the hospital. Most doctors treat the head-nurses like shit so you can imagine how far up I’m on the respect ladder. And how could I respect someone who doesn’t give a toss about anyone below their pay grade? There’s one doctor though. She’s quite snarky and opinionated but we get along. I think she hates everyone equally. Also a kind of tolerance, I’d say.”

Anders grinned. That sounded suspiciously like someone he knew. “Mmh, maybe you’ve met Michele after all.”

A little blush crept up Mitchell’s cheeks. “Uhm... is she your girlfriend?”

“Michele?! Nooo, nohoho, no way!” Anders nearly knocked over his pint at that question. Girlfriend? He didn’t exactly deal in these terms.

Mitchell only shrugged at his outburst. “Okay.”

“She... we... we don't get along… at all! And she's busy jumping my brother. Can't say I'm a fan. We meet a lot, you know, family things and so on.”

The alcohol was getting to his head as Anders realised – otherwise why was he prattling on about Michele? But then, another pint appeared in front of him and Mitchell talked about the hospital and the weird things that had happened to him during his shifts. He gestured not overly much but his face did most of the performance: every syllable out of his mouth sounded lively, animated and prompted his handsome face to play out every emotion he talked about. And he talked a lot. It turned out that Mitchell indeed knew Michele, that he once helped her make a body disappear (although Anders wasn’t sure that was true. Difficult to say though and not only because of Michele) and that his friend George was the kindest if also weirdest person he had ever met. With every story there was a new pint and Anders felt relaxed in that comfortable buzz of stories and drink he was wrapped in. He listened and enjoyed Mitchell’s narratives, threw in the odd comment about his aversion to blood and the time he had nearly bled to death as well as sharing a few of the more light-hearted stories of his family. Especially the tale about Olaf and Dawn getting high and Dawn climbing the net at the playground coaxed a beautiful full laugh out of Mitchell.

“D’you have family around?” Anders asked, tipsier than he had anticipated, “You know, crazy aunts or nerve-wrecking brothers?”

"I have friends who pimp me out in the local newspaper. No need for crazy relatives. And I stand by that, by the way," a tiny hiccough made its way out of Mitchell's throat, "that it wasn't my idea and that I wasn't overly thrilled."

"Who needs foes with friends like these, hm?" Anders laughed, "Whose idea was this whole newspaper thingy?"

"Annie, my lovely flatmate. She's great, don't get me wrong. She's lovely and bubbly and we have a laugh. She keeps me from doing stupid stuff. But sometimes she gets...” Mitchell visibly tried hard to locate the appropriate word, “ideas. And she is more energetic than us two combined."

 _If that woman ever met Dawn we’d all be lost_. "That sounds rather dangerous... but doesn't _that_ ,” Anders gestured vaguely in the air between them and maybe accidently brushed over Mitchell’s arm, “qualify as stupid stuff?! I mean it's an ad to get laid…"

"It's not to get laid!" Mitchell scoffed but softened his words immediately with a smile, "I'm not that desperate. But if you think that's stupid you can imagine how stupid the stuff is I don't do."

"I get the feeling that I don't want to," Anders laughed, "the whole idea is just so weird."

Mitchell nodded avidly, his eyes shining a little from the alcohol, "I know! I said the very same thing. I said 'Annie, I don't need an ad to get laid'"

"Clever phrasing!" Anders interjected.

"Right? Anyway, she insisted that she had expressed it in a nice way and that people looked for all kindsa connections." Mitchell's words slightly ran into each other, "I mean, newspaper? It's like the 1900s all over again."

"Yeah, right!” Anders chuckled, “Like in the old days. All boring and printed."

"I mean," Mitchell took a swig of his drink, "would you answer such an ad?"

"No, I wouldn't. Never," Anders shook his head in a determined move, "On the other hand, here we are. Makes me feel old in a way."

"Tell me 'bout it," Mitchell grinned.

Anders finished his pint and hurried to get the next round. This pub wasn’t as bad as he had thought, he figured drunkenly as he waited for the pints. He moved back with the glasses, put them on the table and let his hand linger shortly on Mitchell’s shoulder before sitting back down.

"By the way,” he said as Mitchell threw him a longer smile, “was the pretty curly-haired woman you came with your Annie? Where did she go? Abandoned you, like my assistant?"

"Huh?” The Irishman looked quizzically at him, “Nah mate, I came here alone."

"Oh, I thought that woman was with you…" Anders tilted his head. He could've sworn that Mitchell had entered the pub with a woman and both had walked towards him… well, all coincidence then.

"I'm a big boy," Mitchell said, "I don't need a chaperone.”

Anders grinned at him, suggestively perking up one eyebrow before he could stop himself. "Yeah, big boy indeed…"

Mitchell didn’t miss a beat on the answer. "That was my selling point on the ad."

"Next to handsome and curly?"

"Yeah, exactly right. Next to good in bed and charming. We ran out of space after interesting and sexy," he grinned.

"Then I'm looking forward to this night's developments," Anders winked at him.

"Got you hooked there, mhm?" Mitchell laughed, "But you, as a PR guy, you would know all about phrasing, wouldn't you?"

"I sure do,” Anders agreed, “But some things are just said best plain and simple." Like for instance _I want to know what you look like under me_.

"So what would your ad look like, Hemingway?" Mitchell asked with that bloody attractive wicked grin again.

"I wouldn't have one 'cause it's still weird!" Anders laughed loudly and threw his head back at the very idea. Nah, he definitely wasn't one to announce himself in a paper. "What would you suggest?" he asked Mitchell with a sure smile.

"Well, you're the expert..." Mitchell said slowly, "let me get a round of shots while I think about it."

Anders nodded and watched Mitchell move to the bar, still quite steady on his feet. And damn, those skinny jeans fitted.

"There you go." Mitchell placed two glasses with a clear liquid in front of them and let himself fall back into his chair, slouching.

"Yay, shots," Anders grinned. He was already pretty smashed but who could say no if a man as attractive as Mitchell came back with shots?

The Irishman nodded, shuffled back to a proper sitting position and got two pieces of paper and two pens out of his pockets, placing them in the middle of the table. "Look what else I got."

"I can't write…" Anders joked which prompted a giggling snort from Mitchell that was entirely too cute for his own good.

The brunet gestured wildly. "Then draw something!"

"Well, I mean, obviously I can, but I'm not sure any of us can read it…” He had found pieces of paper scribbled full of words after a drunken night, probably when Bragi had taken over at some point. Anders’ memory was only reliable in so far that the words had been seductive and beautiful but the spilled ink couldn’t even be deciphered by a special team consisting of the world’s finest linguists if they tried.

“Well, ok, I’ll draw something," Anders looked at the paper, a concentrated frown appearing on his forehead.

"Wait?" he looked up at Mitchell, "what shall I draw?!"

Mitchell's face was one massive grin. "Well, the idea was that we each write an ad for you and then compare. I'm not supporting your fishing for compliments just like that."

"You evil being," Anders laughed and twirled the pen in his hands.

"There you go, another part of my ad. Getting there," Mitchell winked.

"Alright, I’ll try." Anders put the pen to his lips and sucked lightly on it while trying to come up with something. Mitchell's faint blush was a little distracting, though. "Ok, let's see... I am really nice... sometimes and I have an awesome beard."

Mitchell nodded, his eyes glazed. "True."

Anders shot him a quick smile and turned to the paper in front of him, jotting down what was crossing his mind. Well, not everything that was crossing his mind.

"Ready?" he asked Mitchell who was still hunched over his writing, "Let me see what you got."

Anders reached over to grab Mitchell's paper but the Irishman pulled it out of his reach with a quick motion. "Hang on, I'm trying to get the phrasing right. What are you looking for? A lay? A 'connection'? Friends?" he asked and shook the piece of paper to illustrate how far it was from Anders’ reach.

"Remember the whole ‘I don't need an ad to get laid’ thing?” Anders scoffed, “Same goes for me."

"Okay," Mitchell put down the sheet on the table again, reading and writing at the same time, "says he doesn't need an ad to get laid."

"Oi, you egg! A list needs no phrasing!"

"It's an ad, not a list! Put some effort in, mate," Mitchell laughed.

"Oh come on, it's late and there are better things to do than write…" Anders' voice became a bit whiny but at this stage the alcohol was doing it fair share to suppress any feeling of embarrassment.

"Alright, alright. Show me what you got," Mitchell said and Anders gave him a wolfish grin.

"I mean in the sheets," Mitchell added. "sheet. _On_ the sheet. Of paper. Dammit!" He laughed out loudly and gave up on trying to talk his way out of this double entendre.

"And for a moment there I was hoping…" Anders replied with a raised eyebrow and a very real desire to tug at Mitchell’s curls. "You go first, it was your idea after all."

Mitchell giggled. Actually giggled. "Okay."

He cleared his throat. "Indecisive PR agent with limited social skills but nice beard is looking for interesting people who don't mind him walking out and coming back with a flimsy excuse"

Anders huffed in good humour and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "That's not at all true! And you're not that interesting…"

"It's not?" Mitchell asked with an innocent look on his face, "Well, that's what I got from you. I'm not saying I'm your match. Whaddaya got?"

"What do I get out of it?" Anders asked, grinning cheekily to check how far Mitchell would go.

His lips curled up in a knowing smile. "My approval?"

Not what he had hoped for. "Mmh, ok, seems fair for now. Let's see…" Anders consulted the sheet of paper in front of him. "I've got an awesome beard," he stroked through said facial hair, "knows how to talk to people, always up for a fun night and fish."

Wait, that last part wasn't quite coherent, was it? His head was spinning a little, in a good way. Concentration was overrated anyway and why would he waste it on a piece of what looked like an order pad paper?

" ...fish." Mitchell deadpanned, "You know, not sure that would make me answer."

"Why? Why not?" Tsk, unbelievable, the audacity on the guy. "It has everything you could possibly want," Anders added, sticking to his guns, “What’s not to love?”

"Explain the fish part before my brain fills in. Please," Mitchell chuckled.

So it hadn't been overly coherent after all. "Oh, yeah, I've got fish."

"As pets?"

"Of course as pets!” Anders said indignantly, rolling his eyes at Mitchell with a grin. “As what else, family?"

"No idea how things work in New Zealand," Mitchell slurred with a grin.

Anders only shook his head in feigned disbelief and punched Mitchell lightly on the arm. "And they’re awesome, just so you know!"

"Sorry," Mitchell laughed, "do you name them?”

That question caught Anders off-guard. "Well, no, but I like them."

"They don’t have names?” The expression on Mitchell’s face could well be described as utterly horrified. “Why?"

"I don't know, never occurred to me…" Anders could tell them apart without names so what was the point of making some up?

"Well, you should give them names," Mitchell nodded insistently, his curls bouncing around his head, "I'm sure they'd be happier."

"Maybe you could come over and name them," Anders grinned, "I think they would appreciate it." _As would I._

Mitchell made a grand gesture and added a bow. "I'd be very happy to!"

"Great, you know, we could just do it now," Anders pointed out, fairly certain that he wouldn’t need Bragi to take Mitchell home.

"Do what now?”

 _So many things, handsome_ … "Name my fish."

Mitchell’s face lit up at the prospect. "Yeah, okay!"

"Alright," Anders grinned somewhat stupidly at Mitchell and grabbed his jacket, "Off we go."


	6. Drunken Mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are up for a bit of drunken mischief. No, not what you think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, as you may have noticed this story is a bit on the silly side - let's call it comedy. As a fair warning for this chapter: We had waaay too much fun with the happy drunk scene. Those of you waiting for the eventual hook-up (I know I couldn't fool you with the rating) will have to wait a little longer. Hope you're entertained by the boys' great ideas in the meantime!

Anders stumbled out of the pub behind Mitchell. The Irishman was moderately steady on his feet but grabbed the doorframe when stepping through – a move that Anders repeated a moment later. He took two steps on the pavement and felt the alcohol go to his head in a rush. Damn the need to move and the bloody cold. To his left Mitchell pulled up the zipper of his jacket.

“Brr... it is rather cold.” The words left Anders’ mouth in a cloud. Almost like in a comic, he thought drunkenly and grinned. “We should take a cab so we won't freeze off important body parts.”

“Good luck getting one around here, mate,” Mitchell pointed out, words running into each other, “You'll freeze to the ground before one comes along. Let’s just walk a bit.”

“Maybe you're right… but it's quite a way, I think.” He looked down either way in an attempt to locate the right direction only to be drawn by Mitchell’s statue again. Damn, that man was gorgeous and it wasn’t only the alcohol talking. “And I don't want to wait much longer for you to… name my fish.”

“We might find inspiration on the way,” Mitchell smirked as he got out a pack of cigarettes. With clumsy fingers he fumbled one out and put it between his lips, lighting up.

“Let’s hope we will,” Anders said, mouth running dry at the way Mitchell sucked at the cigarette. In his head Bragi made an attempt to take over his intoxicated mind, putting Mitchell’s appearance in lines of seductive poetry that tickled on his tongue and threatened to spill over his lips. Anders pressed his teeth together. No, this wasn’t Bragi’s show to run despite the drinks he had had. The blond silently fought back and felt Bragi retreat while he still stared at Mitchell, captivated. No wonder the god had wanted his share – the act of smoking became sensual as the brunet closed his eyes as he held the smoke in his mouth for a moment before exhaling and breathing it back in through his nostrils.

“Oh, sorry,” Mitchell picked up on Anders’ look and offered him the pack. “Do you smoke?”

 _Not exactly the reason I stared_. “No, man, thanks, just some relaxing stuff on occasion,” Anders answered in a slur as both men started to walk down the street in not exactly direct lines. The cold he had felt before receded with every swaying step he took. Next to him Mitchell still smoked in silence but shot Anders a grin ever so often that the blond returned. _All without Bragi’s help_. Anders felt a strange kind of pride grow in his stomach. Despite the outset of this weird-ass night he had managed to pull Mitchell and if that wasn’t something to be proud of and to make this shitty week a lot better. He could really do a lot worse than… well, naming fish with this man.

“So,” Anders asked as he remembered the pretence purpose they had agreed on, “already any suggestions for fish-names?”

Mitchell threw him an amused glance and a drunken shrug. “That surely depends on what they look like.”

“Well, like fish,” the blond said, for a second not sure whether Mitchell was kidding, “Small and shiny with big eyes.”

The brunet chuckled. “Oh, yeah, I think I’ve seen those before… no, I mean which colour? Which kind?”

“Goldfish maybe. I dunno, just bought some in a shop. But they are orange and one’s black.” Anders nodded with a self-satisfied grin. It shouldn’t be said that he couldn’t remember his beloved pets, not even after beer and shots.

“Mhm, that’s a good start for a name. And then it also depends on what they like,” Mitchell stated with a mock-academic gesture only to let the matter-of-fact expression melt into a cheeky grin. “But I guess I'll find that out at your place.”

Anders smirked. “Oh, you surely will.” If he was as capricious in bed as he was out of it this night would be fun – if they ever found the way to his apartment. The houses around the area had changed, the right giving way to a large industrial area while the main road ran further into a quiet housing estate. Well, that didn’t look exactly like his neighbourhood but Mitchell’s suggestion of finding ‘inspiration on the way’ still rang interestingly in his mind.

“You know them best...” Mitchell’s teasing drawl cut through Anders’ mostly visual thoughts, “any hints beforehand?”

“They are mostly quite content in the normal, you know, fish-way. But from time to time they like to get a taste of something special…”

Next to him, Mitchell let out a full-hearted laugh and staggered from the sheer force of it. He bumped into Anders slightly, putting a hand on his back while the other flicked the cigarette butt away.

“Now that sounds fascinating. Like what?” he asked, laughing again.

Anders warmed himself to the story about his pets and to be honest – there was no way to talk about fish in a sexy way. Not even Bragi could swing that. The blond leaned into Mitchell’s side, feeling the vibrations of his chuckle.

“Like swimming both ways, sharing their food in groups, you know, hide in their little cave for a whole weekend…”

Anders walked two steps until he realised that Mitchell’s warmth was gone from his side. He turned around only to see the brunet standing behind him, looking at him with an expression that was halfway between amusement and serious doubt. “What?” Anders asked and closed the distance to him, stumbling closer than he had intended.

“You keep talking about fish,” Mitchell laughed and shook his head in disbelief, adding a sidestep when he nearly made himself lose balance.

“Because you keep asking,” Anders said, irritated. It’s not like _he_ insisted on the bloody fish-theme, after all he definitely had other thoughts in mind.

Mitchell grinned broadly. “You’re an idiot,” he stated and kissed him, both hands cupping his face.

The brunet grazed Anders’ mouth a little clumsily but the passion and heat it held made up for it. Anders huffed surprised at the sudden kiss and the firm hands holding his face, the gloves’ wool slightly rough on his skin but the fingers nice and soft. When the feeling of Mitchell’s warm lips cut through his tipsy mind he grabbed the Irishman’s jacket and pulled him closer. He tasted faintly of beer and tobacco, teasing with his tongue and making Anders want more right there and then, never mind the cold.

“How far did you say it is again?” Mitchell asked when he pulled back, slightly breathy voice.

“What?” Anders asked, dazed from the kiss, “Oh, uhm… well…” He looked around and reluctantly let go of Mitchell’s jacket, “I don't know. Doesn't look like the area I'm living in.” _Dammit_!

“Pity. 'Cause I'd like to continue this somewhere warm...”

Anders shot him a grin and at the same time cursed himself for not paying more attention. At this point he wasn’t even sure if he had chosen the right direction – to be perfectly honest he had gone with his gut. But the main area of decision-making had moved a little lower and every moment they spent out here was one he’d rather pass with Mitchell in his apartment.

“Do you know any of the streets we came across?” Mitchell asked.

“If we go back a little I might recognise something…”

Mitchell wrapped his arm back around Anders’ shoulders with a natural gesture, turning him around 180° with drunken dash. A loud giggle came out of Anders’ throat at the grand gesture and sudden movement but Mitchell’s hold kept him on his feet.

“Well, the industrial area down that way,” the Irishman leaned into Anders and pointed along the street with the arm around the blond’s shoulders, “is probably wrong?”

“Yeah maybe…” he smiled, pleasantly distracted by the feeling of Mitchell’s larger frame and the anticipation of his curls dancing over his skin, “but I’ve seen that before… I think we need to turn right.”

For a while they walked along the way Anders had indicated. The blond’s hand was firmly placed on Mitchell’s back as they staggered their way down the street, laughing at everything and anything. The anticipation but also the easiness with which they clung to each other had Anders grinning broadly. Sexy and fun, he thought drunkenly, what a catch. He chuckled at a story that Mitchell told in an animated way and just about managed to pull the Irishman to the side before he could run into a streetlamp head-on, prompting another laughing fit from both of them. Anders half-expected some snobby resident of this upper-middle-class area to come out and tell them to shut the hell up. Nothing Bragi couldn’t handle but to his surprise the houses remained as silent and dark as the street in front of them.

“Oh, you know who lives here?” Anders asked suddenly when he recognised a row of small single houses, all equipped with a front garden and a cobblestone path that lead to the door.

“Who?”

“Dawn,” Anders smiled at his assistant’s name only to frown when he remembered that he was supposed to be pissed off about the way she had treated him. Well, Mitchell was hot and following him home but that was beside the point.

The Irishman drew his dark eyebrows together and tried to remember. A stray curl bounced about his temple and Anders just about fought the impulse to pull it and let it bounce back up. “Your assistant?”

“Yeah, my maybe still assistant.” He groped for the silver flask in his inside pocket, unscrewed the cap and took a long swig from it.

“Oh, come on,” Mitchell scoffed good-naturedly, “as if you're gonna fire her over this little mishap.”

“Little mishap?!” Anders drunkenly exploded at the brunet’s casual approach to Dawn’s… betrayal.

Not that he was actually mad at Mitchell or Dawn at this stage but his gut reaction was to step away from the Irishman to make room for his indignation. Anders threw his arms up to indicate that Mitchell obviously hadn’t understood the severity of the situation. Mind you, this evening was really nice and _that kiss_ … but missing respect and lacking acceptance of his authority was definitely not a mishap. He sharply turned towards Mitchell only to be faced with a broad grin before he lost his balance. Anders took two stumbling steps towards Mitchell, trying to regain control of his body which failed miserably. Mitchell’s arm darted out and his hand landed on the small of Anders’ back, steadying him enough to keep him on his feet.

“You mean evil set-up,” Anders snorted and leaned slightly into Mitchell’s supporting hand.

Mitchell tilted his head in question. “Is it that bad hanging out with me?”

“It's all because of this lost phone…” Anders rambled on but stopped himself as he understood Mitchell’s question. “What? No, no. I’m having a great evening.”

One arm darted out, the other clung to his middle as he suggested a bow. The flask gave a dull sound when it hit one of the buttons on Anders’ jacket as Mitchell chuckled, holding his hands out in case the blond toppled over again. But he kept on his feet and walked on until they stood opposite Dawn’s house.

“See? No need to fire Dawn, then.”

 _Quite the philanthropist._ Anders decided to take this as a sign that Mitchell was as content with the progress of this night as he was. Not that he needed proof.

“Maybe…” the blond crinkled his nose, “I have to think on that. She really is a good assistant… But what she did is still not ok.”

“Yeah, I get why you hold a grudge,” Mitchell said, “But doesn't that seem a little... over the top to get back at you? I mean she could've just put salt in your coffee instead of sugar or something.”

“But she couldn’t be sure how her little plan turned out. So apparently she decided to make it a good one in case she didn’t get another chance.” _Very cunning, Dawn._ He had to give her this but being out-smarted? Inacceptable.

“Very ambitious. What are you gonna do about it?” Mitchell asked and a slow grin grew on his face, “Seems like a thing that needs an answer.”

Anders tilted his head, eyes shining in interest as he looked at Mitchell quizzically. “Meaning to get back at her? Like in pre-school?” Now _that_ sounded like something adequate to his drunken mind.

Mitchell cocked his eyebrow quickly and in time with a somewhat mischievous smirk. “Yeah, something more fun than just firing her. That's just stupid and as you said you're business would suffer. Now, we don't want that, do we? Let’s go for something... scheme-ier.” He laughed, “Not quite preschool maybe.”

“You sound like someone with a history of pranks, hm?” Anders said, looking closely at the naughty glint in Mitchell’s eyes. A second ago he would’ve said that Mitchell was joking or that this glint was purely alcohol-induced. But now he wasn’t too sure… and damned if that notion didn’t make the brunet all the more appealing.

Mitchell shrugged in modesty but his grin gave him away. “I've been known to come up with one or two good ones over the years.”

 _Interesting_. “Any ideas?” Anders asked by way of approaching the matter. He took another swallow from the flask before handing it over to Mitchell.

“Mhm... I need more info,” Mitchell creased his forehead, accepting the flask and drinking from it, “I don't know the girl.”

Okay, so he wasn’t entirely joking. Anders’ curiosity was sparked. Playing a prank on Dawn may just be the right kind of answer to all this and why shouldn’t he see what Mitchell came up with? He wasn’t one to stop a creative man.

“She,” Anders pointed at Dawn’s house and squinted his eyes, “is one of these always punctual and perfectly styled people. Happily working with lots of friends…. And she loves cupcakes.”

“That'll be a bit of a challenge. ‘Cause you know we're out here and she's in there,” Mitchell pointed out drunkenly, gesturing eagerly to illustrate their respective positions, “so anything to do with punctuality is a bit of a trespassing case.”

He wasn’t wrong there but there must be something good to do to her, Anders thought through his hazy mind. Nothing overly mean but fun enough to drive the point home. Like that one time, years ago, when he had made Mike a peanut butter sandwich and put in guinea pig food, passing it off as the crunchy bits. Anders giggled at the memory of Mike’s face when he realised. The grounding had definitely been worth it.

“We could just ring her bell and hide somewhere to witness our victory when she storms out,” Anders said with an evil grin, “we’ll keep doing that a few times in the next hour and she’ll be a tired wreck at work tomorrow!”

Then he could point out her lateness for a change. _How would you like that, Dawn_?

“Not bad on principle but mate, it's fucking freezing,” Mitchell laughed and rubbed his gloved hands as if to illustrate the point, “I'm not hiding in the bushes for another hour.”

“True, didn’t think about that.” Only now saw that Mitchell was indeed shivering slightly, his ears red from the cold. Anders himself was still wrapped in the warmth of the drinks they had had. “Funny how alcohol takes the cold away,” he said with a lopsided grin.

“I'll need more than alcohol to keep me warm.” Mitchell crossed his arms in front of his chest, the flask in his right hand.

“Oh you do, do you?” the blond asked with a salacious smirk, stepping closer to Mitchell. He ran his hands up the Irishman’s arms, brought his mouth close to his ear and whispered, “Not long and I’ll personally make sure you’ll get warm. In all kinds of ways.”

His beard scratched lightly along Mitchell’s skin when he breathed just the tiniest hint of a kiss on the spot where his jaw met his throat. Anders pulled back, taking the flask from Mitchell and saw with gratification that his pupils had dilated considerably. A small shiver ran through him, surely not because of the cold anymore.

Mitchell cleared his throat and asked, voice somewhat breathy, “So, what's it to be?” He jerked his chin into the direction of Dawn’s house, “Let the air out of that bike's tyres? Dig up her front garden? Fake a love letter?” He looked directly at Anders, a smirk on his lips, “Decide so I can find out if your word is any good.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Anders grinned broadly. “Faking a love letter would be too mean… And I stay out of Dawn’s love life otherwise I have a mopey brother on my heels. No, maybe something that will annoy her for quite some time…” He wetted his lips and thought intently. “You know, she really ‘likes’ cats... maybe we could grease her house with tuna or something like that. It will take weeks for the rain to wash away the smell and all the neighbours’ cats will be welcome visitors.”

Mitchell tilted his head, joining in with him, “Cats you say? Mhmh... there's no way we'll get tuna, unfortunately. But hang on... Annie has told me something recently about that one plant that sort of attracts cats. What's it called? It even had cat in the name… cat....cat... catnip!” He clicked his fingers and pointed at Anders, visibly happy to have remembered.

“Catnip…” Anders repeated slowly, “and where do we get that in the middle of the night?”

Mitchell shrugged. “Same as the middle of the day. Garden centre.”

Anders laughed, “So out little detour had a meaning after all! I saw one when we took the wrong turn.”

“Well, it's not too far… what do you say, Anders,” Mitchell’s accent became stronger and Anders couldn’t help but enjoy the sound of the rolling ‘r’s, “are you up for a bit of danger?”

He returned Mitchell’s meaningful look with a broad grin, a little lewd twist curling his lips. “I'm always up for fun.”

“Glad you sort of did answer my ad,” Mitchell laughed and turned to walk. “Wait... let's borrow her bike.”

“I like how you think!”

Mitchell crossed the street after a quick look around the empty street and walked towards Dawn’s house. Anders followed him to the opposite pavement, watching him move quietly and too swiftly for all the drinks he had had. His dark figure merged neatly with the shadows around him as he took the bike and pushed it back to where Anders was standing.

“Unlocked,” he winked.

“So, how do we go about this?” Anders asked, not quite as animated as before now that he realised one important detail, “It’s a bloody mountain bike. There’s just one saddle and no bike rack.”

“I drive and you sit on the handlebar,” Mitchell said with an enthusiastic grin.

Anders took a step closer to the bike and eyed first the handlebar with doubt and then Mitchell’s excited expression. “No way. You’re drunk and we will die in a ditch somewhere! Maybe I should drive.”

Not that he had transported anyone on a handlebar since he had been a child but that would give him at least the illusion of control. That extra drink from the flask had probably been a bad idea for an endeavour such as this.

Mitchell shook his head. “You’re just as drunk,” he pointed out, laughing.

Anders could hardly say anything against that. The world had clearer outlines by now but he was a long way from sober and despite himself he started to like the whole bike-idea. It had a certain Bruce-Springsteen-freedom-feeling to it, somehow, almost like a small adventure. Not only that but Mitchell looked way too hot how he leaned on the handlebar with his arms crossed casually, his feet to either side of the bike, hair slightly in disarray. And his broadening grin (which only intensified his boyish charm, bloody hell) told Anders that his inner conflict was most likely plainly visible on his face.

“And we won't die...” Mitchell assured him with an easy shrug, “don't be so dramatic. I have _plenty_ of experience with this,” a perfectly timed hiccough, “so hop on.”

With a grand wave of his gloved hand Mitchell indicated the handlebar as if it were one of the most comfy seats this world had to offer.

Anders laughed a small nervous laugh. “Somehow, I'm not reassured at all.”

He inched closer to the bike, grabbed the metal and got on. His movements weren’t exactly coined by elegance but Anders was fairly proud of himself once he was seated more or less securely. He wriggled on the bar, trying to figure out where to put his hands. “You're sure you’ve done that before?”

“Yeah, loads of times.” Anders sincerely hoped that this didn’t translate to ‘I haven’t so much as looked as a bike in the last 10 years’. “Hold on to my arms.”

Looking over his shoulder Anders grabbed Mitchell just over his wrists. The Irishman’s arms felt strong and muscular, even under the jacket’s fabric. This wasn’t too bad, he figured with a nervous grin and entertained himself with the thought of how Mitchell’s upper arms would feel when he grabbed them in a different position.

Mitchell leaned forward, his chest rubbing along Anders’ back, and whispered into his ear. “Relax.”

The warm breath ghosting over his skin didn’t do anything to relax Anders but before he could reply Mitchell began to pedal.

With a start the bike began to move and Anders bit back a surprised gasp but dug his fingers deeper into Mitchell’s arm. The handlebar moved in a wobbly swerve, indicative of the Irishman’s more than tipsy state. Or his inability to transport someone securely on a bike, Anders wasn’t too sure what it was. _Probably both_.

“Woa, don't rush, Mitchell… I want to steal from the garden centre in one piece.” The part of his brain that still found the situation hilarious commented accordingly. _There’s a sentence everyone should’ve said at least once._

“Don't worry, I've got this. All your best parts will make it,” Mitchell promised, his voice carrying a dangerous mixture of drunken amusement and boasting.

The next few metres things went smoothly and Anders almost relaxed all his painfully tense muscles as he clung to the handlebar until… “Oh, shit,” Mitchell squeaked, “sorry...”

This swerve made Anders claw at Mitchell’s arms again, as fast as his alcohol-impaired reflexes could kick in. Shit, he should’ve known. He would die on a fucking bike without even having scored with Mitchell. He wasn’t one for regrets but that one would be the up there with the time he was too drunk to remember the redhead.

“Mitchell, you're crushing my balls! Be careful or you getting warmed up won't come true after all…”

“How the fuck did you sit down if this crushes your balls?” Mitchell said, panting by now from biking.

“I've got big balls! Shut up and drive responsibly,” Anders grumbled to cover up his uneasiness on the bloody handlebar.

“I'll crash us into that car if you don't stop telling me stuff like that.”

“Keep to the middle of the road.”

“Stop squirming, then! You're not making my job easier.”

“Maybe you never sat on a handle. It's not easy. Oh god, finally. Over there on the left. See the huge car park?”

The car park was deserted and cloaked in darkness as was the rest of the area. Only one streetlamp on the far side of the fence illuminated a few plants and the grey asphalt of the street in a dim, yellow light.

“Yeah, got it!” Mitchell proclaimed, drove a sharp curve and stopped at the fence of the outdoor part of the garden centre.

“See, that wasn't too bad.”

Anders dismounted from the handlebar as soon as Mitchell had stopped. The plan was to get down with a single hop but to his dismay Anders moved unsteadily. This definitely wasn’t a way of transportation for anyone who liked to have their downstairs department in working order. He threw Mitchell a somewhat grumpy look. “You can suck my balls later to care for the crushing.”

Mitchell commented his words only with a smug grin. “Okay, phone boy - look up a picture of that sodding plant. I need to know what it looks like.”

Anders huffed but obliged. “What’s it called again?”

“Catnip.”

“Right. Cat... Catnip. Okay, here we go.” He held up his phone while his other hand unconsciously rubbed over his aching butt.

Mitchell tore his eyes away from that sight and squinted at the bright screen. “Green. How helpful. Thanks, I'll try my best to find it.”

“It’s a plant, what did you imagine it to be?” Anders shook his head, “I’ll come with you to make sure you got the right one.”

Lifting his hands in a defensive gesture Mitchell shook his head. “Nah, I'll manage. I'll just take your phone and will be back in no time. With the right plant.”

“You sure you don't need my floral intellect?”

“I'm certain your floral intellect is impeccable but let me get that one. I have a way with cctv - and you wouldn't last a day in prison,” he added with a wink, taking Anders’ phone and putting it into his jeans pocket.

“You mean you’ve broken in somewhere before?” Despite his overall… attraction to Mitchell Anders stopped in his tracks for a second.

A cocksure smirk. “The less you know the less you can tell...”

“And I would last in prison all right,” Anders raised an eyebrow, “You have no idea where a clever mouth can get you.”

Mitchell’s tongue darted out and wetted his lips. _Guess I’m not the only one thinking visually_. “Is that right? You might have to prove that later,” his voice dropped into a darker sound, “I quite liked the first taste.”

“Maybe I will, depends on your success in this venture,” the blond grinned, satisfied to have struck a chord with the Irishman.

“Now there's an incentive. Alright, give me a hand!” Mitchell walked over to the fence and grasped the metal with his hands, giving it an assessing shake. It barely moved.

Anders walked up to him and crouched to give Mitchell a leg-up. “You know, normally I don’t bend over.”

“Glad you don’t mind trying something new.”

Anders only rolled his eyes and motioned Mitchell to get on with it. The brunet carefully put his boot on the folded hands, grasped the fence with his hands and pushed himself up. With wide eyes Anders watched him climbing up the fence quickly with the gained momentum, slowing down slightly as he reached the top. Not long and he had his legs moved over to the other side and climbed down again, jumping the last bit. Anders involuntarily wiped his hands along his slacks. Okay, that was hot. Proper secret-agent-on-a-mission hot. The only thing that would’ve made Mitchell more attractive in this moment would’ve been a thigh holster.

“Wait, Mitchell,” Anders said, way too late, “we didn't think that through... how will you get back? I mean, without my help?”

“Shit,” the Irishman laughed a tipsy laugh. How the hell did he move so fluently when he was just as drunk as Anders? Well, at least he was shit at driving a bike. “I'll find something to stand on. There’s loads of crap lying about. Don't bail on me, handsome - I'll be back in a flash.”

Anders leaned casually against the fence, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Wouldn't think about it.”

While Mitchell went off to check the plants outside the garden centre building Anders looked around the surrounding area. No headlights pierced the darkness of the broad streets, no late-night dog walkers occupied the few green patches between the hardware stores… All quiet, luckily.

“Got it!” Mitchell exclaimed from somewhere behind a row of half-grown conifers, “How much of the stuff do we need?”

“Just pack an arm full, the more the better!” The dim glow of the streetlamp didn’t reach the Irishman and Anders tried hard to spot him in the dark parlour.

“Alright!” Mitchell appeared in front of him on the other side of the fence, carrying two bigger plants. One green stem blocked his face, cutting the big grin in the middle. “That should do it. I'll throw it over the fence and you catch?”

“Bring it!”

Both men took a few steps back from the fence. Anders blinked a few times to get his vision at least halfway focussed when Mitchell’s “Catch!” reached his ear. The first catnip came tumbling over the fence, the green leaves fluttering in flight. Anders stretched out his arms, adjusted his vantage point and caught the plant.

“Got it!” A few chunks of potting soil bounced off and landed on the ground next to him, dragging one stem of catnip with it before he could grab it. “Or at least some…“

An animated giggle came from Mitchell. “Well done! Next!”

The following catnip flew in a more elegant line and Anders caught all of it this time. The minty, herby smell clung to his hands and clothes by now and he huffed a few times to get the scent out of his nose. Across the fence Mitchell chuckled.

“So, figured out how to climb back?” Anders asked as he put the plants on the ground and stepped closer to the fence again.

Mitchell nodded, pointing at something in the darkness a few metres away in opposite direction of the streetlamp.

“Yep, down there. Massive pots lined up.” He started walking towards it and Anders followed suit on his side of the fence.

“No monkey business, just a safe climb, yeah? Don't want to drive your broken ass to my flat.”

“Don't worry, I'm a pro.”

“Not the words an actual pro would use…” Anders muttered, his voice carrying a concerned undertone.

Mitchell’s face lit up in a full-on-puppy grin. “Aw, are you worried about me?” He stepped on the pots, using his arms for balance and adjusted his jeans once he stood on one of the bigger ones.

 _Worried?_ Not exactly the word he would use. “No, I'm definitely not worried about you! I just don't want to break my neck driving this bike-from-hell back to Dawn’s with you wailing the whole time about this or that being broken or dislocated.”

“Aren't you quite the charmer.”

“Someone has to be,” Anders shrugged.

Mitchell’s scoff ended in a laugh. “Okay, I'm climbing over. Move back a few steps.”

Anders did as he was told, walking backwards while looking up to Mitchell. Okay, yes, maybe he was a bit worried. That fence was quite high after all and the light of the lamp didn’t reach to this part of the area.

“Wait, Mitchell!” he shouted as he suddenly remembered something, “You should get a spade or something, you know, for digging in the plants. We can't just throw them in front of Dawn’s house. She’d notice first thing in the morning and throw them away, all the fun spoiled. Let’s dig them in between the other flowers so she’ll need some time to figure out why all the cats are occupying her yard.”

As he illustrated the scene a giggle grew in his stomach. In his mind’s eye he could see exactly how this would all pan out, hoards of cats hanging around in Dawn’s neat flowerbed. She would have a lot of fun with her new best friends; this idea was gold. He only needed to keep a serious face when she told him the next day.

“Oh right! Good thinking. Hang on...” Mitchell jumped down from the pots again and disappeared into the far part of the yard. “Somewhere...”

Anders heard a clatter, a sort of grating sound and there Mitchell was, spade in hand. “Here we go!”

“My hero,” the blond winked.

“Anytime.” Mitchell grinned and handed Anders the spade through the fence.

He wasn’t exactly sure how they should transport all of this back to Dawn’s as he put the shovel next to the plants but Anders couldn’t keep the stupid grin off his face. Their yield was pretty impressive, he thought, and marvelled at the casually stolen plants. This night was definitely one of the more eventful ones and they hadn’t even made it to his apartment yet.

“Mitchell?” Anders looked up from the plants and the spade only to find him gone again.

“Just a moment!”

The Irishman came sauntering back to the fence with something sticking out of the pocket of his jacket. Anders tried to get a look at it but then Mitchell climbed the fence with quick moves, distracting him once more.

Landing on both feet he turned to Anders, ran his hand through his hair and grinned confidently. The blond noticed little crumbs of soil clinging to the dark curls as Mitchell checked his jacket’s pocket.

“And last but not least a very special treat,” he said and handed him another plant, confined to a little black plastic pot. Anders accepted it with a surprised look on his face only to scrunch it up in disgust when realised that the plant was wet and dripping and of an entirely disgusting texture.

“Thanks…. Ugh, wait, what the fuck _is_ that?” He held the pot an arms-length away from him. Hopefully the grubby stuff hadn’t dripped onto his suit yet… ‘cause that would piss him off, even in his tipsy state.

“You’re sure you’re not a creep?” he asked and threw Mitchell a quizzical glance. And he had worried about the catnip smell…

“It's for your fish!”

“… my fish??” Anders looked at the plant and again at Mitchell. _What_? It was sort of difficult to follow the Irishman’s reasoning when the green stuff stuck to his fingers already. That wasn’t poisonous, was it?

Mitchell’s eyes were wide and way too innocent for the situation at hand. “Yeah... you know, for your fish tank.”

“You…” Slowly, so very slowly Anders understood what the hell Mitchell was getting at.

_Oh god._

That was just too fucking sweet.

“You wanna bring them a present so they'll like you better?”

Mitchell nodded. “Yes... I figured maybe they'd like something new for their apartment. I can't just rush in there and name them without bringing a housewarming present now, can I?”

“True,” Anders chuckled, all thoughts of ruined suits and disgusting plant-texture forgotten, “that wouldn't be appropriate at all.”

 

* * * * * *

 

“Maybe I should drive this time and you keep the plants and spade and everything?” Anders suggested when they returned to the bike. “Time for your balls to get crushed. I need to care for something, too.”

“Okay,” Mitchell grinned and took the spade from Anders, somehow balancing it together with the catnip and the slimy plant for the fish. “We should be fine as long as I don't fall on the spade and get staked.”

“I never heard of someone getting staked by a spade… I think gardening isn't that dangerous after all.”

“Glad to hear it,” Mitchell laughed and sat down on the handlebar. A lot more elegant than Anders had, as he noticed with a twinge of jealousy. Well, it probably shouldn’t come as a surprise after the whole fence-climbing thing.

“Okay, off we go,” Anders said, starting to pedal and careful to keep the handlebar as steady as possible. “You can lean back a bit so you won't fall off the front.”

“Thanks,” Mitchell leaned back carefully, steadying himself on the side of Anders’ chest and shoulder.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

Anders smiled to himself and got into a steady pedalling rhythm. The bike moved surprisingly smooth, giving Anders the chance to actually enjoy the advantages of his position – meaning carefully approaching Mitchell’s hair with his nose. He smelled nice, sort of like fresh linen and shampoo mixing with his own scent. A part of his neck was laid bare on the side where his jacket didn’t close all the way and Anders fought the temptation to press his lips on it or scrape his teeth along the patch of skin.

Without further accidents or mishaps of any kind they arrived back in front of Dawn’s house. “There we are, all in one piece, I hope? No crushed parts?”

Mitchell nodded. “Yeah, all good and in working order, I'll give you that.” He balanced the plants and the spade, stepping past the path on the grass and put down their newly acquired treasures. Anders pushed the bike up the cobblestone path to return it to its original place before walking over to Mitchell who already inspected the flower bed.

“Perfect,” Anders grinned, “Let’s get to work so we can go on with the warming up part of the plan.”

“Gladly,” Mitchell said with a cheeky wink and handed over the spade.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 kudos?! Oh wow... Thank you very much for reading :)


	7. Gardening 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gardening, shenanigans and progressively worse pick-up lines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's still T-rated... also: spot the stolen Supernatural joke ;)

Mitchell crossed his arms and looked encouragingly at Anders who in turn eyed the catnip and the drying aquatic plant lying in the grass. A few shovels of dirt left and their, or rather Anders’, revenge would be carried out, leaving them to rejoice in their chance meeting and the genius prank. And Mitchell had one or two ideas how to celebrate to make this night even more fun than it already was.

“Don't you wanna be a gentleman and show me your strength and muscular forearms while digging?” Anders slurred with a wink.

Mitchell scoffed at the cheap attempt to transfer the work to him, swaying now that he didn’t have the shovel for balance anymore. “I already stole for you! Doesn't that qualify as gentlemanly behaviour?”

“Well, no…” Anders raised an eyebrow.

Mitchell shook his head, grinning. “I just realised how that sounded.”

“I will cherish it forever,” the blond giggled as he leaned onto the shovel. Bloody hell, how could a grown man giggle like that and sound so wonderfully mischievous? His crinkled-up nose drew lines on his face that extended to the blue eyes. The PR smile from hours before had been but a faint shadow of this relaxed, handsome – and admittedly drunk – face.

“Glad to hear it. I don’t steal for everyone, you know.”

“Aren’t I a lucky man tonight,” Anders winked, swaying, and took the silver flask from his inside pocket again. He unscrewed the cap with one hand while the other still held the shovel.

Mitchell jerked his chin forward. “How about I take that flask and you hold on to the shovel?”

“Nonono, how about you start digging and as a prize you get some of my nice stuff?”

That man seemed to have an endless supply of sleazy pick-up lines but Mitchell couldn’t help but chuckle. The whole evening had been characterised by questionable banter and if he was honest Anders’ dimpled smile made the lines hotter than they should be.

“Define nice stuff,” Mitchell challenged him, “I need to know if it's worth it.”

“You know what I mean,” Anders said and shook the flask to catch Mitchell’s attention. Just as the Irishman’s eyes were focussed on the metal Anders moved it down to his hip, drawing Mitchell’s gaze with it.

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that?” he laughed, eyes deliberately lingering a moment longer before he looked at Anders again. Smugly, he nodded.

“Yeah, been told as much.”

Meeting Mitchell’s gaze Anders took a mouthful from the flask and swallowed with a cheeky smile in his eyes. It wasn’t bloodlust that made the Irishman clear his throat discreetly – those days were over, luckily, and he was managing well enough. No, just the sight of the blond’s Adam’s apple jumping in his stretched throat made Mitchell want to run his tongue over the sinews and suck the soft skin before moving lower. Yeah, it was high time they finished up here and moved on.

Mitchell’s voice felt rougher in his throat than he had anticipated. “If you keep drinking like that I might not get around to dig.”

“If you dug faster you’d already be… drinking, you know,” Anders pointed out, teasing in his tone but with flushed cheeks, reddening not from alcohol alone.

“Ts… No wonder Dawn set you up,” Mitchell grinned, “I’d prank you too if you were my boss.”

The blond’s arms darted out in faked outrage, the shovel dangling dangerously loose from his right hand. “What? Why? I’m charming and giving when the required work is done in a nice and efficient way.”

He nodded as to reaffirm himself, making Mitchell laugh and returning the smile. “You talk like I was some kind of slave driver. I’m a little bit offended right now.”

“Seems to me you're not used to hearing the truth, then! You'll live. In fact, physical work is very effective to get rid of feelings like that,” Mitchell grinned, babbling whatever his drunken mind told him was a good idea to get Anders to dig, “You know, channelling your energy and all that.”

“Oh, I’m no one to deny a bit of physical activity... and I've got quite the idea how to get all my energies in a nice and balanced condition.”

 _Yeah, walked right into that one_. Still grinning, Mitchell scoffed. “Give me the damn shovel.”

 _Otherwise we’ll never make it to your place._ Fun as this was, there was definitely too much talking that dealt with the things they _could_ do as opposed to the things they _were_ doing.

“There you go, handsome,” Anders presented the shovel horizontally, “You know, when you get a cramp or something I’m volunteering to massage your sore muscles later.”

Mitchell grabbed the wooden handle on the outside of Anders’ hands and just as he wanted to reply the blond pulled him close. He stretched his neck and lightly captured Mitchell’s lower lip between his, plucking the answer directly from his mouth in a slow and sensual grazing.

Mitchell’s pulse gave a jump. _Now we’re talking_.

If his hands hadn’t been firmly wrapped around the shovel he would’ve grabbed Anders and gotten a good feel of that perky arse but the blond had let go of the handle. Anders sucked lightly and teased with his tongue, sending a hot trail down to Mitchell’s groin that made him give a tiny moan. His hands grabbed the handle tighter while Anders’ fingers carded through Mitchell’s stubble slowly, mirroring the lingering movements of his lips.

When Anders broke the kiss carefully, Mitchell couldn’t help but follow his warm mouth instinctively. Never mind the fact that they were outside, in front of Dawn’s window and that it was bloody cold – Mitchell wanted to peel that suit off Anders, preferably with his mouth.

The hand in his beard moved to his chest and playfully stopped him before he could reach the blond. Mitchell drew his eyebrows together, still grabbing that damn shovel, as Anders’ curled up his lips in a cocksure smile.

“Dig.”

The rough whisper hung between them in the form of a little cloud for a second and to his surprise, Mitchell nodded. Not that he was used to be ordered around or giving in – but Anders made a very convincing argument and he’d be damned if that dirty smirk wasn’t additional incentive.

Eager to get the bloody gardening episode over with Mitchell stuck the shovel in the grassy ground and rolled up the sleeves of his jacket. Despite the cold (which he didn’t feel as prominently anymore after that _kiss_ ) he at least wanted to minimise the likelihood of his sleeves getting stuck on the handle. He wasn’t as stupid drunk as he had been when they had left the pub an hour ago but to be fair his co-ordination was a little off-hand. Well, for a vampire. Nothing Anders would notice but even his climb over the fence hadn’t been as smooth as he had liked it to be.

„Now there’s a view,” Anders commented, face lighting up in an approving grin as he focussed on the bare forearms.

Mitchell raised an eyebrow. “Oh, with the charm again...”

“Sure, it’s one of my best features.”

The Irishman smirked, craning his neck to gain a glimpse of Anders’ butt in those tight slacks. “I can tell another one from here.”

“I know,” Anders stroked through his face, “my beard is awesome!”

“Yeah, your beard is nice, too,” the Irishman laughed at the smug expression. Incorrigible.

“Alright, where do you want to put the catnip? There,” Mitchell pointed to the middle of the flowerbed, “nicely tugged in between the red flowers? What does the man with the floral intellect say?”

Nodding and somewhat focussed on the task now, Anders stumbled a little closer to the flowerbed to inspect it in detail. “Good choice! Dawn won't notice the catnip between all the other blossoms.”

With an almost steady move Anders collected one plant from the ground while he waved at Mitchell to start digging. Sighing theatrically the Irishman grabbed the shovel, put his boot on the edge of it and and started to break the ground at the chosen spot. Despite the cold spring the soil wasn’t frozen – luckily, otherwise their whole plan would’ve been in vain. Well, not entirely in vain, Mitchell thought with a shy smile around his lips as he shovelled another heap of soil to the side. Anders was standing a few feet away from him, still grabbing the flask and watching his work with an undefined – and very drunken – grin on his face.

“I haven't done any gardening in a while,” Mitchell chuckled.

“Can't imagine why,” Anders replied, keeping his eyes on Mitchell’s hands grabbing the shovel, “it quite suits you, this DIY stuff.”

“Don't have a garden, for one... but thanks.” Mitchell smiled shortly at him, surprised at the sudden honesty in Anders’ voice. That sounded like a true compliment as opposed to the cheap but charming pick-up lines he had bubbled over with earlier. The Irishman squatted down, checking the depth from up close and waved at Anders. “Alright, bring over the first plant.”

“You look a bit like you had a garden,” the blond commented as he stepped into the flowerbed as well.

“Careful,” Mitchell said as Anders started to sway when his dress shoes sank into the soil. He grabbed Anders’ hips to steady him. Okay, maybe one hand travelled a little further around the side but point being, he kept him from falling. Anders’ free hand landed on Mitchell’s shoulder for balance but the momentum threw a few soil crumbs at the brunet.

“Nope, no garden and no furniture business,” he said as he wiped away the soil and let go of Anders, “got a backyard with a bbq though.”

With a smile he took the catnip from Anders and stuck it into the soil under the blond’s lingering looks. Quick and efficiently, Mitchell filled up the sides and tapped the soil to make sure everything stayed where it was supposed to be.

“I think you should plant the next one. It’s your prank after all,” Mitchell said as he turned to Anders, clapping his hands together to get rid of the soil sticking to his gloves. “I already earned my reward,” he added, grinning cheekily.

“We’ll see about your payment,” Anders lifted one eyebrow but shook the flask, “I think you’ve earned yourself a little treat in advance.”

Grinning, Mitchell handed the spade back to Anders and took the flask from him in the same movement.

“Where do you prefer the next? Maybe somewhere over there?” The blond pointed a few feet closer to the front door. “Seems to be a nice spot. The cats will like it.”

A fine but mean smile played around his lips. _Look at that mischievous streak_. Mitchell couldn’t help but wonder how that translated to… other situations. “Yeah, looks good to me!”

The blond nodded satisfied and started to dig while Mitchell took a swig of whatever it was that the flask held. It burned pleasantly in his throat, warming him from the inside and as he screwed the flask shut again Mitchell walked over to Anders who was just about to break the ground. With what Annie had coined his “bedroom eyes” Mitchell looked at Anders and slipped the flask into the blond’s shirt pocket, hand lingering a little longer on the muscular chest than necessary. “Thanks,” the Irishman murmured low in his throat and moved back again. Two could play that game and why should he be the only one suffering from teasing? Pleased, Mitchell noticed that it didn’t fail to make Anders lips go dry. His tongue darted out and wetted his lower lip as he nodded at Mitchell, returning to grabbing the shovel and digging faster.

The Irishman’s eyes were drawn by the surprisingly smooth moves Anders put into his work. To be honest he had thought that Anders would be clumsy, seeing that he was obviously a suit type of person, but a few shovels of dirt later the blond planted the catnip into the ground.

“As much as I enjoy your lingering looks,” Anders smirked at him, back to his old self, “you should probably check if there’s still no one around. I think I heard something.”

Mitchell felt himself blush that Anders had noticed his staring and nodded in agreement, glancing up to the windows first before walking over to check the street. All dark. Quiet, too – which surprised him a little, seeing that they weren’t going about their work noiselessly. He walked two steps in each direction for good measure and just as he was about to write Anders’ observation off as an error two headlights pierced the darkness. They were painfully bright in Mitchell’s eyes after spending so long under the washed-out yellow shine of the streetlamps.

“Oh shit! There's a car coming, move, move, move!” Mitchell turned on the spot and darted over to Anders, stumbling a little when he reached the soft soil of the flowerbed. He extended his arms for stability and reached for Anders, grabbed his jacket and pulled.

“What?! Why are you hurrying like this?” Anders asked, trying to adjust when Mitchell’s sudden grip threatened to throw him off balance, “Taking flight is suspicious!”

Mitchell didn’t listen to Anders’ objections but pulled stronger, making the blond hurry along the side of the house. “Having a spade in hand is suspicious, come on!”

“Yeah, looks like we’re hiding a body,” Anders commented sarcastically but followed Mitchell. They had nearly left the flower bed and stepped onto the stone path when Anders stumbled over a root. The Irishman grabbed a little harder, keeping him from falling but in that moment, Anders lost his grip on the spade.

The car passed without stopping but Mitchell froze in his movement as the clattering of the spade on stone was heard.

“Oh, sorry,” Anders said and knelt down to pick the shovel back up just as a window above their heads was opened. “Fuck!” This time, Anders grabbed Mitchell’s jacket to try and pull him closer to the house wall and behind a half-grown shrub.

“Shit…” Mitchell muttered with a look to the window. He moved quickly behind Anders and crouched down next to him, swaying a bit from the rush and the alcohol. It would’ve made more sense to move around the side of the house but now they were stuck here, back to the wall under the window and barely covered by shrubbery and darkness.

From his position Mitchell could only see a pair of hands that leaned on the ledge as he pressed closer to Anders, motioning him to keep quiet. The blond looked about as shocked as Mitchell felt with his lips slightly parted and head tilted to listen to any noise coming from the window. His hand was still gripping Mitchell’s jacket and somehow, Mitchell’s hand had wound up on Anders’ thigh for balance.

“Maybe she hasn’t seen us,” Anders’ hushed voice tickled his ear as the Irishman saw one hand disappear from the ledge.

“Hey!” Dawn shouted, “I’ve seen you!”

“So much for that,” Mitchell mumbled sardonically.

Anders chewed on his lower lip in apprehension. “Shit shit shit…”

“Who are you? What are you doing in my garden?” Dawn’s voice echoed through the night clear and strong.

Mitchell laughed nervously. “What do we do?”

“I don't know,” Anders whispered, scooting closer to the wall, “maybe wait till she closes the window again?”

“I know you are hiding behind that shrub!” Dawn shouted from the window, “Come out or I'll call the police!”

Mitchell’s eyes widened. “She wouldn't... would she?”

“Hell, she would!”

“Fuck…” Last thing he needed was a run-in with the officials – or with fierce-sounding Dawn. “Okay, you go.”

“Why me? She knows how I look. Maybe she doesn't remember you properly. It's dark. We can just run when you have distracted her.”

“This is a shit idea,” Mitchell pointed out in a murmur, “she'll straight up throw something at me. She'll think I'm breaking in! If you go she'll recognise you and you just tell her something. Make something up.” He hesitated and added, pleading, “Please tell me you’re good at your job.”

“I mean it,” Dawn shouted, “Last chance!”

Anders took a deep breath. “Okay, we have to do something. Stay here.”

Carefully, Anders let go of him and stood up, climbing out of the flower bed under Mitchell’s tense gaze. Once he stood securely on both feet Anders walked a few steps and turned to the window.

Dawn was standing there, one hand on the sill while the other held a flower pot, raised and ready for action. Her hair was in wild disarray and the little breeze caught the fabric of her nightshirt, making her look even more forceful than she already did.

“Hey Dawn…” Anders said, giving an awkward wave.

Dawn’s expression changed from anger to utter astonishment. “Anders? What the hell?!”

“Uhm, we… we were... well, I was in the area and, you know, thought about paying you a visit.”

In his hiding spot Mitchell only shook his head and would’ve buried it in his hands if he weren’t so occupied with keeping his balance. For a PR person Anders was surprisingly shit at coming up with a convincing excuse.

“After _mid_ night?” Dawn asked in a high-pitched voice.

Anders shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Can't a PR manager visit his assistant any time of the day?”

“I’m your assistant from 8 to 5 and I don't appreciate further visits.”

"Consider my visit extra hours.”

“Anders...” Dawn sighed so loudly even Mitchell could hear the exasperation and worry in it. The fact that Anders was still decently smashed probably wasn’t helping his cause. “Why are you here?”

Mitchell saw Anders sway ever so slightly as he rubbed his hand through his beard, no doubt wracking his mind for a suitable story.

“I'm here, Dawn…” he started slowly, “to check on you. Whether you still got your senses after abandoning me in this pub under false pretence.”

Mitchell tried not to be offended by Anders’ story. As far as he was concerned Dawn had done him – and probably Anders – a favour in bringing them together like that. But the blond was trying to get out of a sticky situation, Mitchell reminded himself, and guilt tripping was a sure way of doing that. Mentally, the Irishman took back his earlier assessment of Anders’ PR qualities. Maybe he was talented after all.

“Uhm…” Dawn started and lowered the flower pot. Her cheeks flushed as Anders waited for a response.

“That wasn't one of your nicer actions, Dawn,” Anders pointed out, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Anders, I…”

“Anything could’ve happened!” Anders’ voice was now clearly agitated as he got into his own storytelling, “You don't know the man. He could have been some creepy murderer-guy with just one hand and a little flat in South America.”

Mitchell bit his lips in an effort not to laugh and leaned heavier on the wall. That was colourfully put… Anders sounded so perfectly upset that Dawn surely wouldn’t question his visit further.

“I didn't abandon you, Anders,” Dawn defended herself, “I wanted you to meet someone and I... I even stayed on to see if you guys clicked and... and it looked like it! Also, he definitely had two hands.”

“Yeah I know that he’s got two hands, I'm painting a picture here,” Anders answered in a huff and gestured broadly.

In his hiding spot, Mitchell looked at his gloved hands in confusion. Before he could find out the significance of the amount of hands he had, Anders continued to talk.

“And you even stalked me!” he clicked his tongue disapprovingly, “Dawnsie, you really weren’t at your best today, hm? I wonder why you were so harsh with Ty about his little perfectly timed random encounters with you when you yourself are such a pro.”

The short but pointed silence that followed told Mitchell that Anders had delivered a low blow. And indeed, when Dawn started to speak again her tone was cold.

“Anders, I'm not talking to you about Ty.”

 _Damnit…_ Mitchell hoped that Anders found a decent way out of this turn of the conversation before his legs gave in.

Anders lifted his hands in a defeated gesture. “Okay, not talking about Ty.”

“He’s got nothing to do with you meeting a man with two hands and you then showing up in my front garden in the middle of the night!” Dawn sounded properly pissed off now.

“It still wasn't the nicest way to introduce me to a stranger.”

Whoever that Ty guy was it was certainly a bit of a touchy subject. Mitchell felt like a stalker himself, hiding away and listening to their conversation that had long since moved on from a distraction to being a proper argument.

“Anders, I don't want to discuss this on the street. Come on in if it can't wait till tomorrow.” A weary sigh came from the window.

For a moment Mitchell feared that Anders had all but forgotten about him, squatting behind that shrub with by now cramping thighs and a desperate grip on the wall.

“What, no, I don't want to come in. I... we… we don't have to talk this trough right now.” _Thank fuck_. “But tomorrow we need to continue this... talk.” Anders gestured again, unfocussed.

That was when Mitchell lost his grip on the wall and his weight crashed down on his sore thighs. A desperate attempt to grab something, anything that would keep him from falling failed miserably as his knees landed on the soil of the flowerbed. The dampness almost immediately soaked through his jeans and while the sound wouldn’t have been loud enough to draw any attention as such the rustling of the shrub that caught Mitchell’s torso was surely noticeable.

“… did you hear that?” Dawn asked and Mitchell could see parts of a blond shock of hair as she spied out of the window. He froze, closing his eyes to avoid catching Dawn’s eyes by accident.

“What do you mean?” he heard Anders’ voice and dared to look again, hoping Dawn was concentrating on the blond. “I didn't hear a thing.”

From the corner of his eye Anders threw Mitchell a look. _No, don’t look at me_! He wanted to tell him via telepathy or something but to no avail – Anders stared him down with an expression that very clearly told him that he was fucking things up.

“There's someone there...” Dawn’s voice had acquired a worried tone, “You said you were alone?”

Okay, this was ridiculous. He couldn’t continue to hide here even though his sorry excuse of a hiding spot was pretty much discovered. It was nice of Anders to keep insisting that he was alone but Mitchell couldn’t agree with scaring Dawn for his sake. The poor woman sounded properly nervous and while she probably deserved their genius catnip prank he didn’t want her to be afraid.

Mitchell disentangled his jacket from the shrub he had sort of fallen into and stood up, brushing the damp soil off his jeans. Under Anders’ small but insistent shake of the head he stepped out of the flower bed and closed the distance to the blond, avoiding any look at Dawn until he stood next to him. Mitchell’s hands were shoved deep into his pockets as he finally looked up to the window.

“Hello,” he said with a sheepish smile.

Anders looked over to him. “It could have worked,” he said quietly, “now she’ll want an explanation.”

“I fucked it up, I own up to it. Don't want you to cover for me,” Mitchell whispered back.

A broad smile lit up Anders’ face. “How noble.”

Dawn cleared her throat and interrupted the two men as she narrowed her eyes, trying to get a closer look at Mitchell. “Hi…” she said, and then, in a doubtful voice, “Mitchell?”

Mitchell feared she would fall out the window if she leaned any further so he hastened to answer.

“You must be Dawn,” he said politely, “Pleasure to meet you.” He even incorporated a little bow that had Anders snort next to him.

“That’s me… uhm... nice to meet you, too… Even at this ungodly hour,” Dawn put down the flower pot for good now. “Anders! What are the two of you doing in my garden in the middle of the night?”

She lifted an eyebrow and added, “Or don’t I want to know?”

“It's my fault, really,” Mitchell said before Anders could make a lewd comment, “we were talking about gardening and plants and then the pub closed. We started walking, you know, clear our heads a bit, and Anders told me how lovely your garden is and since I absolutely love working with my hands,” Mitchell waved both in case the number of hands he could present was still in question, “I asked him to show me. It wasn’t far, we had a few beers and I didn't realise how late it was. I'm sorry if we disturbed you, ma'am...” He tilted his head slightly and threw in a disarming smile.

“Is that right?” Dawn said doubtfully.

Both men nodded, adding their best smiles.

“You could have come the next day,” Dawn pointed out, “You know, with light and everything.”

“Yeah, true,” Anders nodded again, “We will, next time.”

“Again, very sorry,” Mitchell added.

“We’ve kept you long enough, Dawnsie. There’ll be work tomorrow and it's getting late.”

 _Did he just say ‘He’s getting laid’?!_ Mitchell blushed to the roots of his hair at this overt statement. All of that was pretty clear but did Dawn really need to know that? The dynamic between her and Anders was definitely a special one – she didn’t even seem fazed by these kinds of news. Mitchell opened his mouth to say something that he had yet to make up when the real meaning of Anders’ words arrived in his mind. _Oh._

“Eh, yeah right, work. Have a good night…” Dawn said, putting one hand on the handle of the window.

Mitchell threw a side glance to Anders. The blond flashed him a smile and turned to walk back to the street when Dawn called out again. “Anders! Wait! I'll call you a cab, that's much safer and you won't be chilled to the bone when you get home.”

A cab meant warmth, comfort and most of all a quick means of transport to Anders’ flat… and Mitchell could get out of his damp clothes. He certainly wouldn’t survive another bike trip and they had walked their fair share for tonight.

But Anders shook his head. “It'll take ages till the damn cab gets here.”

“A cab sounds good, though,” Mitchell interjected, “Would you please call one for us, Dawn? We'll wait out here and you can go back to sleep.”

“Sure, I'm on it. Won't take long, they’re usually here in 5.”

“Perfect, thank you very much,” Mitchell smiled up at Dawn. “And sorry for the... ambush.”

“No worries... I guess. I'll see you tomorrow, Anders.” A last nod and Dawn closed the window for good. Her silhouette disappeared and the light went out again.

For a split second, both men just stood there. Then, Anders chuckled quietly and Mitchell darted forward to grab the shovel and the aquatic plant that had camouflaged itself perfectly on the grass.

Anders pointed at the shovel. “So, do we just get in the cab with that?! A bit...weird, isn't it?”

“I'm re-evaluating my idea of weird every moment I spend with you,” Mitchell grinned at him, “seriously, this was brilliant.”

Anders’ response was an equally broad smile that deepened his dimples. “D'you think? Me too! We should do stuff like that more often.”

“Do you think we can top that?” Mitchell asked with a laugh and held shovel and plant in one hand to throw his arm around Anders shoulders. Immediately, the blond leaned into him, resting his hand on Mitchell’s hip and joined in the laughter.

“I bet we can! It's just a matter of timing and planning. And that's my daily work.”

“The look on Dawn's face...” Mitchell nearly choked on his laugh as he remembered, “Jesus, I thought she'd throw the flower pot at me.”

“And wouldn't it be ironic to steal from a garden centre just to get hit by a flower pot!” Anders laughed out so strongly that he bent forwards a fair bit, taking Mitchell with him.

“Oh god, yes...” Mitchell gasped in the small pauses in his laughing fit, “Poetic justice. But we even managed to plant everything - luck is on our side.”

“Some photos from our nights’ work would be nice, though…” Anders thought out loud.

“In my experience, felony is best executed without evidence,” Mitchell grinned as the cab pulled up on the side of the street. “We'll have to keep it in our memory.”

“And I forever will,” Anders smiled like a pleased cat and pulled Mitchell towards the cab.

 


	8. "Naming Fish"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ah, there they are, your fish. You really weren’t lying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Archaeology, fish and M-rated smut. Not in combination, obviously. That would be weird.

"Archaeologists," Mitchell gasped from laughter and leaned on the wall as the taxi vanished down the empty street, “on a mission. A mission! Because they found remains of a rare kind of Dodo bird. I can’t believe the cabbie bought that and let us take the shovel and plant.”

Another wave of that gorgeous laughter rolled through Mitchell, shaking said items that he had clutched in front of his chest.

“I know, I mean, you still had the dirt on your jeans,” Anders pointed at Mitchell’s knees and joined in with his laughter loudly.

Bragi had made the cabbie a little more gullible than he may have been in the first place but that didn’t change the fact that Mitchell had spent the drive grabbing his thigh and trying not to burst into laughter.

“You just lack the hat to pass for a proper Indiana Jones,” Anders added with a broad grin.

Mitchell tried his luck standing on his own two feet again and let go of the wall. “Yeah,” he chuckled, “that's the _only_ thing that distinguishes me from Indiana Jones.”

“Are you afraid of snakes, too?” Anders asked laughing.

Mitchell nodded, his solemn expression holding for a split second before he flashed his grin again. “Sure... there are none in Ireland as you know.” Then, he waved at Anders.

“Go on, open the door! I was promised warmth.”

“Right, okay, I'm on it,” Anders tapped his jacket, a faint jingling showing him the pocket his keys were in. Despite his clumsy attempt at fetching his key ring he didn’t feel that drunk anymore. In fact, the whole gardening exercise and the scare Dawn had given them had sobered him up considerably. Which was a good thing – this night was definitely one of the most fun ones he had ever had and it would be a shame not to remember. What had happened and what would happen. On second try and with a little chuckle Anders unlocked the door and opened it.

“In you go, my handsome gardener,” he said and indicated a little bow.

“Thank you very much, fearless bike expert,” Mitchell’s Irish accent stumbled with him over the doorstep.

Anders chuckled at the missing “th”, rolling “r”s and his innovative title as he followed Mitchell inside. “That's a new one. But I quite like it.”

Mitchell leaned the shovel on the wall and shrugged his jacket off, throwing it carelessly over the backrest of the sofa while balancing the aquatic plant. A few steps and he spied the fish tank with a short laugh.

“Ah, there they are, your fish. You really weren’t lying.”

Anders chuckled in amusement as he put his jacket and scarf on a hanger. “Did you think I lead you here on false pretence to have my wicked ways with you?”

“A man can dream,” Mitchell shrugged, eyes glinting cheekily as Anders stepped next to him.

A loud _splash_ , a few drops of water jumping out of the tank and Mitchell took a step back, admiring his work.

Anders tapped lightly against the glass of the fish tank and watched the stolen aquatic plant sink down to the bottom when he felt Mitchell’s arms wind around his middle. A hot mouth met his neck and the Irishman’s broad frame pressed against him. Anders smiled, craning his neck to give Mitchell better access. Damn, those lips felt nice on his skin. Mitchell’s hands wandered along his sides and under his shirt as he pushed him closer to the fish tank.

“Hey, not in front of my fish!” Anders said somewhat startled as one of the bigger ones swam along his line of sight with bulging eyes and entirely too much eye contact. The cold from the glass bit through Anders’ clothes and he squirmed a little under Mitchell’s caresses, grabbing the gloved hands that had sneaked their way to his belt already.

“Hm?” Mitchell murmured against his neck when Anders attempted to turn around and face him. The Irishman’s face was so close to him Anders could make out the different specks in the brownish-green eyes.

“My fish. They barely know you,” Anders explained with a stern face but eyes focussed on the red lips that had just given him goose bumps, “and you’re already providing the disturbance of their lifetime.”

Anders, still grabbing his hands, pushed him back a few steps so that the fish tank wasn’t pressed against his back anymore. A lopsided grin decorated Mitchell’s mouth and he followed Anders’ guiding.

“Any place your fish aren't watching?” he asked with a deep look into Anders’ eyes.

 _Oh so many, handsome_. Without another word the blond took hold of the front of Mitchell’s shirt and pulled him down the corridor towards the bedroom. Anders was already busy unbuttoning the checked shirt with one hand, accompanied by a light laugh from Mitchell. The Irishman followed, almost stable on his feet, and bumped into Anders when they reached the bedroom. With a quick move Anders removed Mitchell’s shirt only to find that he wore one of those ugly tank tops underneath. Before he could comment accordingly, though, Mitchell buried his hands in Anders’ hair and kissed him with passion, his tongue warm and smooth in Anders’ mouth. Okay, the tank top comment wasn’t that important anyway. The blond slid his hand under the fabric where his fingers found coarse body hair and soft skin. Mitchell let go of his hair and pulled the shirt over his head, moving on to Anders’ buttons.

“So it was an ad to get laid,” Anders grinned somewhat out of breath as his shirt was gone and he pulled Mitchell close again by the loops of his jeans.

“Well, no, but it certainly worked,” he answered, stripping of the gloves and running his hands over Anders’ arse, “You should try it some time. If you’re lucky there’s a sexy businessman waiting for you.”

The warmth of his hands burned through the thin fabric of Anders’ slacks as he pressed against Mitchell.

“I’m good with a plant-stealing rogue right about now,” Anders answered and kissed Mitchell deeply, one hand running down the broad torso to palm his erection through his jeans. Mitchell gasped slightly into his mouth at the touch and Anders rubbed a bit harder which gained him a squeeze of his arse.

“You must be so disappointed I don’t have a furniture business…” Mitchell murmured against his lips between kisses, “All those wood jokes go unused.”

“It’s only the jokes that go unused, believe me.”

Anders sucked on Mitchell’s lower lip teasingly and his other hand followed the trail of hair down to his belt. Mitchell laughed quietly, directing Anders to the bed as the blond undid belt and buttons of his jeans. The brunet’s hands roamed over Anders’ back and against his will Anders had to giggle when Mitchell kissed his jaw and his tongue darted out ever so often to tickle his skin.

Mitchell shrugged off his boots and jeans with Anders’ help and playfully shoved him towards the bed. Falling onto the mattress back first Anders grabbed the Irishman’s sides with a grin and pulled him down in a tangle of limbs – Mitchell landed on top of him but braced himself on his arms next to Anders’ head. A few stray curls framed his face as he looked at Anders with a broad smile, eyes glinting in anticipation.

Anders craned his neck to reach Mitchell’s mouth and kissed him hungrily, teeth scraping lightly over his lip. He let one hand travel along the brunet’s side into his neck and _finally_ Anders could pull at one of those damn curls that had been tempting him the entire night. The sudden tug made Mitchell intensify the kiss, running his fingers’ through Anders’ beard.

Anders was growing harder with every swipe of Mitchell’s tongue against his and wriggled lightly under the weight of the Irishman – a hint that was understood directly. Mitchell slowly, deliberately moved his hips and Anders couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. The blond ran his hands along Mitchell’s back and cupped his arse, clothed in a pair of boxer briefs, as he pushed his hips up. This was nice, _very_ nice, but as far as Anders was concerned still too much fabric was between them.

On cue, Mitchell ground his hips harder and kissed a trail down Anders’ throat and chest, fingers rubbing over his nipple.

“Let’s see to those bike-crushed parts now, shall we?” Mitchell said in husky voice which in combination with that cheeky grin only allowed Anders to nod. The Irishman moved lower, stripping Anders of his slacks and boxers while his mouth did something to the spot under Anders’ bellybutton that made the blond groan.

Mitchell stroked lightly along his erection and Anders moved his hips into the touch. A gush of hot breath washed over his skin and the next thing that send sparks through his nerves was the feeling of Mitchell sucking lightly at his testicles.

“Mitchell,” he gasped and tried to prop himself up on his arms. Mitchell’s dark curls tickled his inner thigh and his free hand was running over his leg. Every move that man made was so damn teasing and _hot_ that it almost frustrated Anders.

Mitchell breathed over his skin once more, cooling the spot he had just sucked on and Anders shivered in pleasure. The Irishman lifted his head and met Anders’ eyes, a lazy smile on his lips.

“All in working order,” he proclaimed.

“Glad we got that covered,” Anders’ voice sounded fairly rough in his own ears, “Why don’t you come up here and let us put it to good use?”

“Sounds intriguing,” Mitchell purred and kissed a trail up Anders’ body, shedding his own underwear in the process and straddled the blond.

Anders sat up entirely, grabbing Mitchell’s waist with one arm while the other fumbled for the lube. The bottle was placed under the second pillow along with condoms which he grabbed with clumsy fingers. In his defence, being naked and straddled by a gorgeous Irishman was a tad bit distracting.

“Anything special in mind?” Mitchell whispered into his ear and lightly bit his earlobe. Anders shuddered in delight, pressing Mitchell closer to gain more friction.

“I want you to ride me.”

Mitchell gave a smile, a small nod and took the lube from Anders. With experienced moves he prepared himself while kissing Anders with passion. And Anders had claimed that his mouth was talented… Mitchell’s lips along with their erections brushing against each other kept Anders so very entertained as he took care of putting on the condom while the Irishman stretched himself on his fingers. Another helping of lube and Mitchell’s slick hand reached between them, stroking a few times with just the right pressure for Anders to moan. Before his sounds could make it out into the open, though, Anders kissed Mitchell’s throat and neck, muffling his sounds against the Irishman’s skin.

“You know the ‘secretive, keeping quiet’ part of the night is over, right?” Mitchell asked between two heaving breaths.

Anders looked into his eyes, glazed from arousal. “You want me to be loud?”

“I want you to enjoy it.”

With that, Mitchell lowered himself on Anders. The blond groaned, this time loudly and from deep within his throat as Mitchell took him. He wrapped one arm around the Irishman’s waist, the other cupped his arse.

Mitchell’s cheeks were faintly flushed, his lips parted and he steadied himself on Anders’ shoulder, giving himself a moment to adjust. Then, he started to rock in shallow thrusts and leaned forward to kiss the blond. Anders opened his mouth immediately and moaned once more at the delicious heat Mitchell built up with his easy rhythm. He squeezed the brunet’s moving arse, kissing and licking down the side of his throat. With a low sigh Mitchell grabbed his hair and sped up his rhythm as Anders’ lips sucked at the hollow of his throat. Mitchell’s arousal rubbed between their stomachs when his thrusts became deeper – with every rub he gave a small sound of pleasure that ran hotly through Anders. The blond took him in hand and stroked in time with his rocking hips.

“Told you I’d warm you up,” Anders panted and sucked at Mitchell’s nipple, toying and flicking his tongue against it in a varying pace to find out which made the brunet arch into him.

“So far it looks like… I’m doing all… the work,” Mitchell replied in a pressed voice between moans.

As an answer, Anders thrust up his hips and nearly sent Mitchell flying if he hadn’t dug his nails in the other’s back. He would do his share all right.

“Fuck…” Mitchell gasped as Anders continued to push into him from below, finding a rhythm for them both while he still ran his hands over Mitchell’s arousal.

“That’s the idea.” Before Mitchell could reply Anders clutched the Irishman and leaned forward with dash, making his back hit the mattress.

A surprised sound came out of Mitchell’s throat as Anders leaned over him, grabbing his thighs and thrusting into him. Mitchell looked so damn hot under him, hair in disarray and sweaty, head thrown back and moving in time with Anders. The blond sucked and nipped at the presented throat, one hand stroking Mitchell while the other dug into his muscular thigh. All ideas of teasing and drawing it out vanished from Anders’ mind. His moving hand between the Irishman’s legs was joined by Mitchell whose other hand tugged at his hair. Anders’ hips bucked faster, gasps falling from his lips as he came close to the edge. Another few thrusts and Mitchell pulled him into a kiss, lightly biting his lip when the blond pushed into Mitchell and climaxed, returning the rough kiss breathlessly. Mitchell gripped his arse and moved their joined hands quicker, coming on the waves of Anders’ orgasm with a low shout.

Anders’ heart beat heavily against his chest as he collapsed on Mitchell. The Irishman gave a surprised huff at the sudden weight but Anders couldn’t care less. His body was still thriving on a high and he lazily moved his hips, unable to stop them yet. Mitchell’s chest was heaving under Anders’ head and he placed little kisses on the salty, hairy skin.

Then, he realised that Mitchell was chuckling, a rumbling sound moving his chest.

“What’s so funny?” Anders wanted to know, failing to see the humour in their situation. He was feeling pretty well but laughing seemed a little out of place.

“Nothing,” Mitchell drawled, “I’m just… I’m happy.”

This was new. Happy? Anders was used to other adjectives after a lay, ranging in their enthusiasm, but happy? It seemed simple enough a concept but somehow it caught Anders off-guard.

“You’re strange,” he murmured against Mitchell’s skin and rolled off him.

He quickly disposed of the condom and flopped onto his back. Mitchell’s arm was dangling over the side of the mattress and they were laying the wrong way around but Anders didn’t really care. His limbs felt wonderfully heavy and his breath evened slowly and he closed his eyes only for a moment, a tiny moment… he was on the verge of dozing off when Mitchell rolled onto his side and pulled him into a languid kiss. For a moment, Anders froze under the warm lips, his eyes darting open again. They had both gotten off so what was Mitchell doing? The Irishman slowly moved closer, hand running lightly over his chest and Anders returned the kiss. This was new, too. But Anders felt that he kind of liked it. The insistent heat was gone but still the kiss was enticing… erotic.

Anders relaxed into Mitchell’s touch, joining his tongue and warming himself to this unexpected make-out session. Mitchell’s back and the curve of his arse felt nice and firm under his fingers and even though Anders was still somewhat spent a tingling made itself known.

“What I meant was that this whole evening makes me happy,” Mitchell smiled a natural smile, devoid of giddiness or a smug curl of his lips, “So many different kinds of fun in one night. Quite the adventure for a Tuesday.”

“We can have another round of fun,” Anders grinned and kissed him again, a little more demanding this time.

Mitchell stroked over his chest. “I’ll gladly ruin your working day.”

“Oh yeah…” Anders said, suddenly creasing up his forehead, “It’s Wednesday tomorrow, right? I’d say I throw a sickie but with Dawn and the cats I’m too curious not to show up.”

He might even take a photo of her stressed out face and put it in a frame on his desk just to remind him of “that one time we planted catnip in the middle of the night”. The thought made him smile.

“Mhm,” Mitchell said, “understandable.”

He let go of Anders and sat up, looking around with a searching expression on his face.

“What’s that you’re doing?” Anders asked, confused that Mitchell’s warmth was so suddenly gone from his side.

“Letting you sleep so you can, what was it? ‘witness your victory’ tomorrow.”

“And let the man significantly involved in it walk out of my door in the middle of the night? No way. Besides, I’m a gentleman and this bed is large enough. I promised you a reward and I’m not done with you yet.”

“Oh?” Mitchell raised one eyebrow, “not too late after all?”

Anders propped himself on his arms and checked the clock on his nightstand. The red numbers flashed sharply through the half-light spilling in from the corridor.

“It’s only 2:23,” he said and sat up, running his hands over Mitchell’s back, “plenty of time. And if we shower now we can sleep longer…”

He kissed the spot where Mitchell’s neck met his shoulder and gained a hum and a grin. “I like how you think.”


	9. The Morning After

Dawn dragged herself up the stairs to the office with a look at her watch. Ten minutes late. This morning definitely didn’t go as she had planned and if she was honest she felt like going back to bed right away. But work was work and it had to be done – even if she was running on three hours of uneasy sleep. At least Anders would not be here to comment on her tardiness and she could fill up on caffeine before he stumbled in. If he actually came into office today. The way things looked her plan had backfired. Anders had surely taken Mitchell home, kicked him out of bed after… you know, and slept through his hangover. So much for a meaningful connection. It had been a crazy idea anyway and it’d be probably for the best if neither of them mentioned it again.

Besides, she had problems other than Anders right now, more pressing problems. The cats hadn’t vanished, in fact, it seemed like they had brought their friends. Dawn whimpered at the thought of her front garden. Her carefully arranged flowers had barely survived Anders’ and Mitchell’s visit but now there were so many felines playing and rolling around in her flowerbed that she wasn’t sure if any of the plants would make it. That wasn’t the worst, though – the sounds had grated on her nerves for hours so that she began to flinch at the smallest noise.

Dawn forced herself to keep her eyes focussed and took the keys out of her purse only to see that the door was unlocked. _Someone broke in_. The sudden shock kicked her sleep-deprived brain into gear which fed her images of chaos – the office ransacked, the computers stolen with cats straying around the ruins of her work place. Then, she heard the familiar clicking of a keyboard.

“Anders?” Dawn asked as she entered, walking through the room to her boss’ desk. Lo and behold, there he was – dressed in an elegant button down, hair styled impeccably and a few files open next to his laptop at which he stared dutifully.

“Morning, Anders…” Dawn raised one eyebrow in surprise, still not sure whether or not she was hallucinating, “aren't you an early bird today.”

“Good morning Dawn, yes, there is lots to do today,” he nodded, glancing over to her shortly before he turned back to the documents that lay in front of him. Hallucination was probably ruled out but Anders looked shockingly… productive.

“Care to explain why you are late for the first time in ever?” he asked and sent the email he had been writing.

“Why… I’m just ten minutes late,” Dawn mumbled, still confused. “That's nearly nothing.”

“For your standards that counts as half a day. But I'll forgive you.”

“Anders, why are you on time? Didn’t you… finish your date yesterday?”

Too late and through a haze of fatigue Dawn realised the odd phrasing but to her surprise Anders didn’t answer with a lewd comment and a smirk. Instead, he looked up at her with a stern expression.

“What do you mean, date? I thought I was meeting someone for a business connection.”

So much for just glossing over that episode. Well, she had walked right into that one. Why did she have to ask? Maybe Mitchell hadn’t stayed the night and Anders was even more pissed off.

“Anders, I don't believe we have to talk this through, do we?” Dawn sighed with a pleading look in her eyes. She really didn’t feel like doing this now. Or ever. How many times would he bring that up? Besides, being lectured on proper morals by Anders was ridiculous in itself. “I'm sorry I set you up.”

“Easy for you to say,” her boss pointed out, “I made a fool of myself and it's your fault.”

“I know I wasn’t honest about the meeting but look, in the end it all turned out for the best, didn't it?”

At least that was what Dawn hoped. They had seemed quite at ease with each other when they stood in front of her window like schoolboys caught during a prank.

Anders answered in a non-committal shrug. “I've been wondering about your reasons, Dawn. Why exactly did you do that?” He sounded genuinely interested now, a circumstance that caught Dawn off-guard. She had anticipated more whining and guilt-tripping.

“Maybe it wasn't my best decision,” Dawn lifted her hands in a defensive gesture, “but I thought you had a good time? I mean you wouldn't take just anybody to go and look at flowers in the middle of the night…”

“That's beside the point and only your business in so far as that it were your flowers. So tell me - why? I think I deserve an answer.”

 _Shit_. What the hell should she tell Anders? That she had been worried about him? He wasn’t exactly big on emotions and the chance that he straight up laughed in her face or became angry again was definitely a high one. Dawn mumbled something unintelligible that hopefully constituted an answer and turned around, walking back to her desk. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder to check what Anders was doing but concentrated on hanging up her coat. However, when she turned around to shuffle a few documents she looked into Ander’s face. The blue eyes demanded an answer and she knew when she had lost.

“Alright… I, well, I thought…” She took a breath and continued in a quieter voice, avoiding his eyes. “I thought you were sort of lonely, sometimes, because you only go for meaningless hook-ups. And you’re always grumpy the morning after. I thought you might need a friend. Or a partner.”

Her voice gained volume now, “And maybe I was a little mad at you because of that lost phone and you being always late, too.”

Dawn placed her hands on the backrest of her chair, straightening her back and making her voice sound as dignified as possible. “Sorry.”

Anders looked at her, confusion written all over his face. “Well... isn’t that…” he started but closed his mouth again, tilting his head.

Dawn waited. There had to be some sort of a stronger reaction. With Anders it was never just a nod or a shake of the head. But her boss remained silent.

“Well…” he said slowly after scratching through his beard, “I wasn't lonely last night and I'm on time today.”

Something was definitely amiss. Not only the situation was strange but Anders’ entire demeanour.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Dawn smiled carefully. If that was all Anders had to say on the subject she would count herself lucky and try to get through the day without an additional pissed off boss on her heels.

“Yeah, well, you could've picked worse, I suppose,” Anders lips curled up into a smile.

No rude grin that left Dawn to imagine the rest but a genuine smile, intensifying the lines around his eyes as he looked down on the desk to hide it. An absurd hope sparked in Dawn. Was that a bashful smile? _Could_ Anders physically be bashful? Either she really was seeing things or her plan had actually worked on some level, by some weird twist of fate… Anders’ somewhat embarrassed clearing of his throat interrupted her thoughts and he went on, “Sorry for waking you, Dawnsie. How was your remainder of the night?”

“Well, let's say you weren't the only ones visiting my garden last night…” Dawn sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Oh? You weren't burgled for real, were you?” Anders asked.

“No… ‘invaded’ would be the better description.”

“Dawnsie, what happened?” Anders’ face had taken on a worried twist.

“It was really odd,” Dawn started her tale, sitting down behind her desk, “I was just about to go to sleep again when I heard funny noises from the street. You know, like kids whining or someone singing in a high pitch and out of tune. At first I figured it would stop any moment but then… it was as if a fight started between the supposed drunken singers.”

“Mitchell and I didn't see anyone,” Anders though out loud, “The street was empty and the pub is a bit of a way…”

Dawn nodded, pleasantly surprised by Anders’ participation in her dire fate. “You had already left for a while. Anyway, I thought maybe someone should call the police and went to get a look. And you won't believe me what I saw in my garden, right under my window.”

“What?” Anders asked and for a split second Dawn thought she saw a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. But that was probably only anticipation of the grand finale of the story.

“Cats, Anders,” Dawn answered gravely, shuddering a little, “Cats. At least 6.”

Anders raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn't have a cat?”

“I _don't_ have a cat!” She shook her head in desperation. Anders and his obsession with cats… despite the fatigue dragging her down Dawn took a breath and tried to calm down. “They weren't mine. I don't know who they belong to.”

A light huff came from Anders as he frowned and tilted his head. “You know, your pet situation is terribly confusing.”

Dawn nearly laughed hysterically. “No, it's not! I don't have a cat or any other pet, as simple as that.” The way things were right now she definitely wouldn’t come close to considering having a cat ever again. The sounds alone… Dawn shuddered.

“Then what were they doing in your garden?”

“I don't know. It seemed as if they just appeared out of thin air. I’ve never seen so many cats in my neighbourhood…” Dawn sighed a strained sigh, “…and they wouldn't leave…” she added quietly, almost talking to herself. What the hell should she do? She couldn’t just shush them all away – it hadn’t worked at night so why should it work now. _Maybe they’re gone when I get back home._

“Mhm...” Anders said sympathetically and patted her arm, “Seems like you had a rough night. Why don't you treat yourself to a cup of coffee and a muffin. My shout.”

“Yeah, you are right. It was really an exhausting night.” Then, realised the second part of her boss’ words. That was…. nice? Confused, Dawn looked up at him as if to assess whether he was serious. A slight glint was shining in his eyes but Dawn’s own eyes were so bone dry and tired that this observation didn’t mean a thing. Slowly, she nodded. Whatever Mitchell had done to (or with) Anders definitely had a lasting effect on his mood and she wasn’t one to question it.

 

* * * * * *

 

Mitchell ran his hand through his hair and felt the caffeine kick in. No wonder, really. The double espresso at Anders’ place had woken him up all right and here he was sitting in front of another fresh mug of pitch black coffee hat Annie had made him. Across from Mitchell George was fighting to keep his eyes open after a nightshift but any suggestion of him going to sleep was warded off with surprising insistence.

Annie, on the other hand, was darting through the kitchen without a particular destination but too much energy to contain. Good thing that hangover was a tame one otherwise Mitchell would’ve died all over again at the high noises Annie made.

“He came back? Really?” Counter, George’s chair, kitchen table. A bundle of excess energy.

“Yeah… really.” Mitchell chuckled and wrapped his hands around his mug. “Took him a while but there he was.”

“Oh Mitchell, isn't that great!” Annie folded her hands under her chin, sighing happily, “You still had that proper blind date of yours.”

George pointed at Mitchell’s shirt – the shirt he had worn yesterday. "A date that turned into a hook-up, good for you!"

Annie waved at George and shook her head, “Oh no, George, I bet it was far more romantic, wasn't it, Mitchell?”

Mitchell opened his mouth to answer but closed it again when Annie continued to talk. “Did he take you to the movies or somewhere nice for a late dinner or something, as an excuse? He looked like a proper gentleman, I mean this suit and… those slacks…”

“Uhm, not exactly...” Mitchell said, interrupting Annie’s praise of Anders’ shapely behind, “We stayed at the pub a while.”

Annie raised one eyebrow, suddenly cut short in her ideal version of the date. “The pub? I thought he'd take you somewhere fancier…”

There was an aspect Mitchell hadn’t considered before. She might have a point about up-market locations if Anders’ apartment was anything to go by… on the other hand he hadn’t complained about the pub or the somewhat grubby prank-part of the night. And their meeting definitely hadn’t been your run-oft-the-mill date Mitchell thought and took another sip of the strong coffee before answering.

“I'm glad he didn't insist on a fancy location. It was nice, we had a few drinks, talked about stuff. He knows Michele, George,” Mitchell nodded in George’s direction who was barely hiding his huge yawn behind his hand.

“Does he now?” he asked when he had regained control of his jaw, “How... interesting for him.”

Mitchell shrugged and joined George’s grin when Annie chipped in, frowning. “You told him about your work? I hope you didn’t go into too many details. That's not very romantic, Mitchell…”

Mitchell sighed. As much as he appreciated that Annie wanted him to be happy it was becoming increasingly difficult to tell this story without running into resistance every few sentences. “Annie, I didn't mean to make it romantic. We were hanging out and it was fun, easy conversation.”

“But it was a date!” Annie insisted, “Dates should be romantic.”

“A first date,” Mitchell specified, “To which he didn’t even know he had signed up. Getting to know each other and understanding what happened takes up quite a bit of conversation.”

“Does that mean there'll be a second date?” George asked, genuinely curious.

 _Good question_. Mitchell drew his brows together as he tried to find a decent answer when a sound from his phone saved him. Relieved, he fumbled it from his pocket and smiled at the name with the little envelope icon next to it while Annie and George exchanged meaningful glances.

 

_Anders Johnsons (ad guy)_

_Dawn's just walking up the stairs. Those are the heavy steps of someone who woke up to cats whining under her window_.

 

Mitchell tried to hide his grin behind the mug of coffee. _A man of his word_. When they had finally made it out of Anders’ bed (not without another round of lazy yet heated making out) Mitchell pointed out that he would miss Dawn’s reaction to their prank.

“It’s unfair, to say the least.”

“I can’t hide you under my desk, can I?” Anders had replied and buttoned up his shirt.

“Well…” Mitchell had shrugged with a wolfish grin, far from averse to the idea.

“Interesting,” an appreciative grin, “but sorry. Maybe another time. I can text you what’s happening, though.”

That was a deal Mitchell could well live with. Especially because it meant that they wouldn’t just go their separate ways but keep in touch. No weird waiting phases or wondering who should text first. Easy-going and laid back.

“Is that from him, Mitchell?” Annie interrupted his thoughts, “Did he send you a sweet good-morning message? Can I see?”

Her hand was already reaching halfway across the table but Mitchell reacted in time, pulling the phone close to his chest.

“Shush, Annie! Leave me a bit of privacy, will you?” he grumbled. Not that the message was one he’d hide from Annie but it was a matter of principle.

Annie gestured towards his phone. “But we sent the first texts to him together and this is our _thing_ …”

Mitchell hastened to shake his head so hard that his curls went flying. That was definitely not their _thing_. In fact, Annie had already had her fun as far as Mitchell was concerned.

“We texted his assistant,” he pointed out.

“Technically, we didn’t know that.”

“Oh come on, Annie, just let it slide. It’s not a romantic message and I’m sorry it wasn’t the fairy tale date you imagined it to be. But it was good fun and not only about sex, I assure you.” He gave her the puppy-dog look he knew she couldn’t stomach and asked softly, “That was what you wanted, right? Can you just be happy for me without knowing everything?”

A small _hrumpf_ came out of Annie’s throat but she loosened her crossed arms. “I suppose I can. After all, it was intended to find you someone to connect with.” She tilted her head and her features softened. “I’m happy you had a fun night.”

“Thank you,” Mitchell said dignified, “We had tons of fun. It’s not like we just, you know, went for it.”

George sipped his herbal tea. “What else did you do besides drinking at the pub?”

Mitchell hesitated. The prank was definitely a good story to tell but he remembered the sort of illegal theft part of the night which Annie would surely condemn.

“Oh, we walked to his place, clear our heads a little.” This was what had happened, after all.

Annie looked at him quizzically. “How… exciting?”

George frowned. "I fail to see how this is 'tons of fun'..."

“Maybe you guys just can't appreciate a good walk?” Mitchell said in a feeble attempt at moving away from talking about the prank part of the night. Annie certainly wouldn’t appreciate that Dawn was the target seeing that she had gotten on so well with her in their brief encounter. He shouldn’t have gone on about having fun and just left. But it was too late for that now. Rescue came in form of a chime from his phone and he grabbed it from the table, a little too eager to get out of the conversation.

“Another text already?” Annie asked, “You didn’t even reply to the first one.”

Mitchell ignored Annie as well as he could and opened the message from Anders.

_Dawn went out to get coffee and threw a tantrum b/c a cat had sneaked into the coffee place xD I think we broke her_

 

Mitchell bit back a laugh and managed to turn it into a surely goofy looking grin as he typed. Poor Dawn… but it was just too damn funny to imagine her balancing paper coffee cups while freaking out about a cat.

 _What a CATastrophe :D_ he typed and a few seconds later Anders replied with an equally bad pun.

 

_CATalyst for her horror_

 

Mitchell giggled a little louder and looked up from his phone when Annie cleared her throat in a pointed way. Right, he wasn’t done here yet.

“That Anders-guy must be fond of you,” George’s tired drawl cut through Mitchell’s amusement.

Hearing him say that made Mitchell grin a bit broader. Maybe Anders did like him alright… he was sticking to his texting promise after all.

“Okay, well, so we pranked his assistant.”

His dearest housemates wouldn’t stop pestering him anyway and why not tell it? It was a good story after all. Maybe he could leave out the garden centre part as to not upset Annie. And who knew, maybe that satisfied her thirst for a romantic story at last.

But she and George just stared at him blankly, not unlike the still nameless fish in Anders’ fish tank.

“The one you talked to, Annie,” Mitchell tried to get a reaction. He was probably too tired and high on caffeine simultaneously to properly tell that story but so far it had been coherent if he remembered correctly. “Dawn. He wanted to fire her and I suggested to just go with a prank. Eye for an eye and stuff... not that there were any eyes involved.”

“He wanted to fire her?” Annie asked with a concerned look on her face, “Just because she set him up? That's uncalled for.”

George seemed utterly confused. “Why would there be eyes involved?”

“But good that you could change his mind, Mitchell!” Annie patted Mitchell’s shoulder approvingly, “Well done.”

 _There we go, that part is safe_. “Pretty sure he wouldn’t have gone through with it,” Mitchell answered, “But thanks, Annie. That was the fun detour before... you know.”

George waved distractedly, indicating that he certainly didn’t need any further details on the ‘you know’.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said and continued animatedly, “But actually, during my shift tonight there was an eyeless man. It was an accident with a vacuum cleaner…”

Annie lightly slapped his shoulder. “Shh, George! Stop that! It's not about eyes, didn't you listen?” She turned her attention back to Mitchell. “What kind of prank did you play? I hope nothing too bad, poor Dawn!”

“Nah, nothing bad, just a little shenanigans,” Mitchell answered and grinned at the memory, “We planted catnip in her garden.”

George tilted his head. “Wait... where did you get catnip in the middle of the night?”

 _Shit_. So much for leaving out the theft part. Mitchell’s grin became a little forced as he hesitated a moment and then slowly said “...from the garden centre.”

“Which is closed nighttimes?” Annie stated rather than asked.

“M-hm.” Mitchell nodded with the appropriate amount of guilt in his eyes, “But before you say anything: I paid for it. Put down twenty quid. That should more than cover a few plants.”

He frowned pensively and added, almost as an afterthought, “…and a shovel.”

To his relief George started to laugh and even Annie’s mouth twitched in a small smile.

“But wait - you got him a shovel as a present?” she asked and lifted one eyebrow.

“It wasn’t a present,” Mitchell pointed out, “it was necessary for the prank.”

“But you did get him anything? Please tell me you thought of it, Mitchell. It’s perfect, flowers are a nice and romantic gesture…” Her eyes took on that dreamy expression again and Mitchell sighed with a defeated smile, shaking his head. He should’ve let her stay for a while. Had she heard some of Anders’ one-liners she’d probably let go of this notion of romance quite fast.

“No flowers, Annie,” Mitchell said, thinking of how ridiculous a rose or something would’ve been for their situation. “I did get him an aquatic plant for his fish tank, though.”

“An aquatic plant?!” George echoed with a confused laugh, “Aren’t they all slimy and gross?”

Mitchell nearly looked offended. “No?” On second thought he shrugged. “I mean, yes, they are. But it made sense in that situation, trust me.”

“Well, that's a little out of the ordinary…” Annie said, visibly struggling to think of a situation in which aquatic plants make romantic gifts, “but really attentive of you, Mitchell.” The smile she gave him was genuine, though.

Annie’s approval gave Mitchell a rush of endorphins. Or maybe it was the caffeine, he wasn’t too sure which of the two made his mouth twist into a bashful smile as he looked down and added, “I think he liked it.”

George was still giggling when another text message announced itself.

 

_Dawn is watering fake plants. CATering to them, so to say. You should see it!_

 

“Another?” George asked in surprise and winked at Mitchell, “Really, that good?”

Mitchell grinned back. “Never underestimate the power of aquatic gifts.”

He turned his attention back to his phone. _Sounds like I’m missing the show!_

They should’ve gone with the hiding-under-the-desk idea. Then, he added _D’you think I could drop by for a moment and witness the spectacle in PURRson? :)_

His cross-examination was almost over anyway and he had way too much caffeine in his blood to go to sleep again or sit down somewhere without anything to do.

 

_Sure. PURRhaps we can even indulge in other fun next to watching Dawn’s downfall ;)_

 

Mitchell grinned. What a perv.

 

_CAn’T wait. Be there in 20!_

 

He hit send and stood up. “Okay guys... I need to go.”

His housemates both looked at him surprised. “Now?” Annie asked, “Why? You never told us the whole story of the prank?”

“That was it…” Mitchell said, already in a hurry to get moving. “We planted the catnip and now Dawn has visitors.”

Drowsily, George looked at him. Confusion was written all over his face as he asked, “Visitors because of some plant?”

“George, mate, you need to sleep,” Mitchell patted his shoulder in affection. “I'll talk to you later, okay? We have a shift tomorrow anyway.”

“Yeah…” George mumbled and took off his glasses, pressing his fingertips on either side of his nose, “I still don't get it…”

Amused, Mitchell watched him shuffle across the kitchen and disappear up the stairs.

“Must’ve been a tough shift,” Annie remarked and Mitchell nodded, finishing the rest of his coffee. "Yes.. Tuesdays. Right, I’ll get a new shirt and will be off.”

He grabbed his phone and put it in his pocket before heading up the stairs as well. When he opened the door to his room Annie was standing next to his closet already.

“Mitchell…” she started in a quieter voice.

“Yeah?” he asked and unbuttoned his shirt. Only now did he see the tell-tale stains of soil on the cuffs and a green sludge on his chest.

“Mitchell, you know it was a little strange yesterday…” Annie went on as Mitchell threw his shirt and tank on the growing heap of clothes on his bed. Hopefully there was still a clean shirt in his closet – it as high time he took care of his laundry. He pushed aside a few moth-eaten band shirts he had always wanted to clear out and grabbed the next best tee without print.

“Oh no, not the green one,” Annie objected to the shirt in Mitchell’s hands and moved over to his closet, “wear the grey long sleeve, the one with the nice buttons. You always look handsome in it.”

“Right.” Mitchell let her work her magic and took the shirt from her hands with a smile. She was right, though – the green shirt should probably also end up on the “clearing out” heap.

“What was strange?” he asked as his head poked out of the neck of the long sleeve.

“Oh right, your date, Anders…” Annie intertwined her fingers and looked at him hesitantly, “I meant to ask. Did he seem normal?”

“Yeah,” Mitchell put on the shirt for good, shrugging it so that it hung loosely from his shoulders, “You were right, he’s not a creep at all. Overly fond of cheap pick-up lines but other than that really decent. You’d like him.”

A pity that Anders couldn’t see Annie but Mitchell had a feeling that those two would get on quite well.

“No, I mean…” Annie looked at him almost shyly, “is he like us or human?”

“Uh…” Where was his wallet? Mitchell patted down his jeans and looked around the room in quick turns. Ah, there, buried under his jacket. “He’s neither a ghost, nor vampire or werewolf, I can tell you that much.”

“Ah, okay,” Annie said slowly.

“Is everything alright?” Mitchell asked as he put on his jacket. Annie was weird all of the sudden, a whole different mood than back downstairs.

“Yes,” she nodded and gave him a bright smile. “I’m glad to hear that the ad-thing worked. Sounds like you really bonded.”

“Yeah, well, kind of, I guess…” Mitchell grinned and shrugged.

“Get him a coffee while you’re at it.”

In his pocket his phone gave a chime. A photo of Dawn, sleeping, her head resting on her arms on the desk. Her hair fell into her eyes and her mouth was slightly open. _CATharsis_ the caption read, making Mitchell chuckle.

“I will,” he said as he looked back up to Annie. “Thank you, Annie, I’ll see you later.”

Only after he hurried along the street did he realise that he hadn’t told Annie where he was going.

 


	10. Coffee Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee is always a good excuse to visit someone. And to redeem oneself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, fair warning: this is the next to last chapter!  
> Thanks for reading :)

Mitchell walked through the lobby, balancing a cup holder with three servings of coffee in his right. It had been barely a few hours since he had seen Anders but Mitchell was more than giddy at the prospect of seeing that dimpled smile again. And the blond would smile alright if his texts and amusement concerning Dawn’s disposition were anything to go by. Mitchell ran his hand through his hair and pressed the button for the elevator. According to the sign next to it “J:PR” was located on the second floor but he was a bit too wired and high on caffeine to take the stairs _and_ make sure that the next round of coffee stayed inside their cups.

The doors opened and Mitchell congratulated himself on the empty and mirror-less elevator as he stepped over the threshold. He tugged at his grey shirt one more time and silently thanked Annie for intervening in his choice of clothes – the green shirt would’ve made him look way out of place in these fancy surroundings.

How easy it was between them, how relaxed… that was definitely a nice change to the catastrophic tense dates he had had a few months prior. Something about Anders felt right, even though it was probably way too early to say that. But gut reaction was the one thing he was actually good at and so far everything seemed normal. Well, not “normal” normal if you considered the creative night they had had but normal in a way that meant relaxed and without an awkward morning after. He had even _slept_ next to Anders. Not long, granted, but he had been out for a solid few hours without waking up at every noise and move from the blond.

 _Ping._ The elevator stopped and Mitchell reminded himself to put on a poker face when the giddy grin threatened to returned to his lips. He had to look normal and relaxed, not at all like he was here to witness the outcome of their prank. Dawn shouldn’t put two and two together because of a misplaced comment on his part.

With what he hoped was a casual step Mitchell walked down the corridor and entered the first office to the right. For a weird moment Mitchell felt like he had seen it before when he understood that the office was decorated in a style similar to Anders’ apartment. Sleek and modern with a pinch of casual understatement.

His eye caught the fake plants Anders had mentioned, drowning in a tan pot on the window sill behind Dawn’s desk. On the desk itself, Dawn was sleeping. At least Mitchell hoped that she was sleeping and not unconscious from all the cat-related stress they had put her through. Her short hair was spread out, her right arm serving as a pillow under her head while the red light of an unanswered call blinked hectically on the answering machine.

Mitchell chuckled lightly and with a twinge of remorse. Maybe their genius prank had been a little crueler than they had thought.

He cleared his throat discreetly.

Nothing.

Dawn made no sign of waking up and Mitchell looked around the office. Anders was nowhere to be found and he couldn’t just walk past Dawn and down the back to the other room, could he? He was intruding as it was – no need to make Dawn feel like she didn’t do her job properly on top of her cat-problems.

 _Great. Standing there like an idiot_.

He walked back to the entrance and rapped lightly on the doorframe, three quick knocks. At this sound Dawn woke with a start. She darted up from the desk, blinked a few times to focus properly and turned her head to locate the source of the sound. A post-it stuck to her cheek and as she smoothed back her hair Mitchell could see the imprint of a folder on her right forearm.

“Sorry? What? Oh,” she looked at Mitchell and in a matter of seconds her alabaster skin turned into a shining blush.

“Hi! Uhm... sorry to wake you... it's Mitchell,” he said with a friendly smile and an awkward wave of the hand that wasn’t holding the coffee cups.

“Mitchell?” Dawn blinked at him, still disoriented, “Mitchell, right! Oh, you're here, are you here to see Anders? Sure, why would you be here for any other reason? He is in his office… I think.”

Dawn was adorably flustered as she continued to talk and Mitchell had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Anders hadn’t exaggerated – she definitely wasn’t at her best today.

“You've got a... a post-it…” Mitchell pointed vaguely at his own face to indicate the spot.

“What?” Dawn’s hands shot out to card through her hair, moving on to her face when she didn’t find anything.

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she finally pulled the post-it from her cheek, “You have to think me an awful lazy person. That's not how I normally spend my days at work, really.”

Mitchell smiled and shook his head, “Oh no, not at all! Don't worry about that. In fact, I'm not entirely innocent of your exhaustion so I bought us all a round of coffee.”

He picked out one of the coffee cups and placed it on her desk, carefully to position it not too close to the edge lest Dawn knocked it over in confusion.

“I didn't know what you liked so here's a black coffee and...” he picked a smaller cup from the cup holder, “the milk extra. I'm afraid it's not frothed, though.”

Dawn stared at the two cups in front of her and back at Mitchell. “Well, that's nice of you. Thanks. I really had rather little sleep.” She sighed only to look at him again with a slight hint of embarrassment in her eyes. “I mean I didn't do anything, you know, besides sleeping. But they kept me awake the whole night after you left and they are still there and I don't know how to get rid of them…”

 _The catnip is definitely doing its job_. “Excuse me... who did?” Mitchell asked and tried his best to look confused – and most of all innocent.

“Oh my, I didn't tell you.” She took a deep breath. “Cats. I have cats. Well, I personally don't have any cats but last night some decided to... annex my garden. And they won't leave. They are lying there, basking in the sun, meowing, purring, I don't know, being cats. But I can't get rid of them.”

Her expression was verging on desperation. Mitchell almost felt bad for Dawn. The catnip had been his idea after all.

“That's... well, I didn't…” he started but checked himself before he could make an incriminating statement, “I mean I'm sorry they came in the middle of the night.”

Dawn nodded in earnest and took a sip of her coffee. “Thank you. Me too.”

Cats, she had said. From the sound of it she definitely meant more than two… maybe two catnip plants had been a little too eager. As much as Mitchell was pleased that Anders surely celebrated their success he felt like he owed Dawn. She hadn’t done anything to him – quite the opposite actually, he should be thanking her for introducing Anders.

“They hate water, I think?” Mitchell offered as a possible solution, “I mean, I don't know the first thing about cats but I think I heard it somewhere.”

In fact, he and George had spent an entire afternoon last summer armed with water pistols to disperse the cats that had assembled around Annie’s precious flowers. It had worked surprisingly well and if he was honest it had been fun – huge buckets to fill up the tanks, general talks of strategy with George and of course not only the cats had ended up drenched to the bone.

Dawn tilted her head at his suggestion. “So you think I should... How do I get the water into my garden? I can't just get the hose and shoot them with it. What if someone watches how I ‘drown the neighbour cats’? Then I’m the weird cat-lady.”

Mitchell gave her a warm smile. “I'm sure no one thinks you're a weird cat lady.”

From the back office a choked snort sounded at this statement and Mitchell barely swallowed the laugh on his tongue. _That little bastard_.

“I'd suggest water pistols,” Mitchell said, well aware that Dawn wasn’t criticising his idea but desperately tried to find a way to put it into action. “Easy to fill up, easy to handle, and you're more flexible than wielding a massive bucket of water.”

Dawn’s red eyes looked at him in doubt. “Maybe. Yeah…”

“Also quite fun,” Mitchell added, smiling at the memory.

“Actually...” Dawn considered with a slow nod, “I think I'll try that. I can borrow my little nephew's water pistol. I just shouldn't tell him what I need it for or he will come too and then I have to explain why he's tormenting the cats.”

Mitchell nodded and gave her an encouraging smile. “You do that. Good luck, Dawn.”

“But, oh, I’m keeping you,” Dawn stood up and walked towards what Mitchell believed was Anders’ office, “You're here for Anders. I‘ll go look for him.”

“Thanks.”

Mitchell still smiled to himself and not only at the prospect of seeing Anders. Their plan had definitely worked and now that he had redeemed himself with coffee and the hint about the water pistol it was well and truly decent to enjoy their victory.

A few moments later Dawn came back, giving Mitchell a smile and indicated the direction. “He has time for you, just straight through the door. And thanks for the coffee again.”

Mitchell smiled, “My pleasure.”

By the time he had passed the door a smile had taken over his entire face, reflected back at him from Anders. The blond was grinning about as broad as Mitchell and if he was tired his eyes, sparkling in mischief, covered it up efficiently.

“Good morning, Mr Johnson. Coffee?” Mitchell asked as Anders stood up from behind his desk.

“Don't mind if I do. I never before got my coffee delivered by a handsome gardener,” he grinned at Mitchell approvingly.

“This is just a side job, you know,” Mitchell answered as he put down the cup holder on the desk next to a pile of files, “When I don't protect the weak and helpless.”

Anders gave a short laugh. “That’s easy to imagine. And you are doing a wonderful job.”

The brunet snorted in amusement. “I'm sure Dawn would disagree.”

“Surely not on the coffee thing,” Anders smiled and took a sip from the cup, “I think you saved her from a severe stiff neck. She’s been sleeping like this for the last 20 minutes.”

The blond giggled, scrunching up his nose and Mitchell couldn’t help the dopey grin on his lips. Cute and sexy, also when sober – that was just plain unfair. Anders tiptoed to the door, peeking through the gap and waved at Mitchell to join him.

“I mean just look at her. She's already slumping back on her desk,” he chuckled lightly.

Mitchell came close to the blond to steal a look at Dawn. Up close and in broad daylight he noticed the thin lines around Anders’ eyes as he looked on in amusement.

Grinning and eager to keep Anders smiling Mitchell said, “She had a post-it sticking to her face when I came in...”

“A post-it?!” Anders’ head darted around to him.

“A pink one,” Mitchell laughed and just about stopped himself from carding his fingers through Anders’ beard and pulling him into a kiss, “I think it said something about ordering cartridges.”

“That's great! I've never seen her this distracted. I wonder what she’s up to next.”

Mitchell gave him a good-natured smile. “You're enjoying this a lot, aren't you?”

“So much. She’s always perfect in everything. Knows the stuff about our clients, dates, money, everything. And I don't know if there will ever be another opportunity to see her in this… state,” Anders laughed quietly as not to draw Dawn’s attention.

He needn’t have worried, though, Mitchell thought: Dawn was entirely confused and in her own head-space from what it looked like. She was just about to sit down in front of her desktop when she darted up again, looking around with a confused expression and then walked over to a shelf. Anders’ giggle intensified when she crossed her arms, visibly trying to recall what she wanted to do only to sit back down with an exasperated sigh.

“Focus, Dawn,” she mumbled to herself, shuffling a few documents, “what did you want to do again?”

With an erratic movement she grabbed her purse and produced a yellow marker.

“I'm glad you're happy,” Mitchell observed how Dawn drew around in the file in front of her.

“Yeah, I’m easy to please,” was the amused answer.

Mitchell smirked but before he had a chance to reply Dawn grabbed something from the desk with surprising fervour.

The Irishman drew his brows together. “...what's she going to do with the hole punch?”

“Look, she's clipping her coffee bonus-card under the contract!” Anders said excitedly and grabbed Mitchell’s arm, “and I bet she already had her free-coffee stamp for this week. She’ll be devastated.”

Dawn set out to file the contract when her card fell from the back, onto her keyboard. A high screech followed by a frustrated groan and Dawn grabbed the card, assessing the damage with shaking fingers. “No no no…” her jaw locked, “not the ‘free coffee’ spot… Damn!”

Mitchell’s laugh at Dawn’s outburst held a pinch of pity. “Oh no...”

Anders, however, wasn’t prone to such inhibitions and his dimples deepened further, much to Mitchell’s delight. “I hope she’ll staple some very important and entirely random documents next.”

“You do realise that you’ll have to clean up her mess?” Mitchell said but nudged him to indicate that he didn’t want to spoil his fun.

“Yeah, well, that's worth it,” Anders laughed, “or I'll be late tomorrow and let her do it before I even set foot into the office.”

Dawn let herself fall back on her chair with a heavy sigh, blew her fringe out of her face and took a sip from the coffee cup.

The Irishman smiled. “We're evil.”

“And I like that!”

“I noticed,” Mitchell smirked, “which is why your refusal on the desk idea really confused me. But now I see the problem.”

He indicated Anders’ workspace with a casual wave of his hand, turning away from the door and poor stressed out Dawn. Like everything in this office the desk was a stylish piece of furniture, made of glass and metal – and without a back.

Anders looked at his desk, confusion showing on his face. Then he broke out in a broad dimpled smile.

“M-hm,” he walked over to the table and ran his hand over the glass surface, “Wouldn't do to give lovely Dawn even more of a fright if she walked in on something…”

His lips curled up in a cheeky smirk as he threw Mitchell a meaningful glance from under his lashes. _Oh fuck_. Mitchell’s mind immediately jumped back to the night before and he wetted his lips. Slowly, he came closer to Anders and stopped in front of him, giving the blond only the hint of a chance to evade him.

“Something?” Mitchell asked, his voice feeling rougher in his throat than he had planned, “You mean something inappropriate for a respectable business such as this?”

Anders placed his hands on the desk behind him, leaning back casually but somehow making it look sensually while his eyes lingered on Mitchell’s lips. “I might lose my reputation.”

“Right,” the brunet answered, bringing his mouth close to Anders’ ear and whispering the next sentence. “I’m guessing you can’t risk that.”

“No one needs to know, though, and if you don’t tell anyone…”

Mitchell grinned and caught Anders’ lips in a soft kiss, cupping his face. He tasted a little different than last night – more coffee and less drink but the seductive scent Mitchell had fallen for was unmistakably there. Anders sighed into the kiss, a pleased sound, as he grasped Mitchell’s sides. He teased with his tongue and pulled the Irishman to him, hands resting on the small of his back. Mitchell kissed him deeper and followed Anders’ urging, closing the distance between them.

_Thud._

 

Startled, Anders broke the kiss. Mitchell’s lips followed him but the blond frowned and tilted his head. “What was that?”

Reluctantly, his hands vanished from Mitchell’s back and he called out in a worried tone, “Dawnsie? Are you okay?”

Mitchell sighed inwardly at the frustrating interruption. Despite their banter beforehand he had forgotten that they were in his office and that Dawn was still there as well – distracted, surely, but not blind and certainly not deaf. At least she hadn’t dropped anything at the sight in front of her.

As they walked around the corner Dawn was already gathering the scattered documents around a heavy folder that lay on the floor.

”Sorry Anders, I’m a little clumsy today,” she said and added under her breath, “stupid cats.”

Mitchell picked up two contracts that were lying at his boots that Dawn promptly took from him in an unfocussed motion.

“No, you don't have to do that, it's alright, I've got this,” Dawn stuttered, embarrassed, “just go back to whatever you were doing before...”

Anders frowned slightly, looking worried even though his eyes betrayed that he was still more than amused. “Dawn, don't you think it would be better for you to head home for today?”

“I'm fine, Anders,” Dawn insisted.

“Yeah, why don’t I believe you?” Anders took the documents from her and placed them on the desk with a final gesture. “Maybe we should lock the office for today and head home, hm? There isn't much to do anyway till the dog food people call tomorrow.”

Dawn didn’t react but searched her purse for something or other as Anders turned to Mitchell and smirked, “Besides, I have other plans for today I would like to follow through.”

“But I can't go home, Anders,” Dawn said, thankfully not acknowledging her boss’ comment. Mitchell may have blushed a bit at the mention of those other plans but this little detail went unnoticed by Dawn and Anders.

“There are still some files that need sorting,” Dawn went on, “and clients I can call, and, and…”

“Maybe you can visit your nephew,” Mitchell suggested, the idea of spending a day with Anders sparking his creativity, “you can ask him about the water pistol and return properly armed to take care of the cats.”

Anders threw him a quizzical look but hastened to nod in agreement.

“Yes. Yes, that’s a good idea,” Dawn said, noticeably relieved to have found a place to go where no cats waited for her, “but then there is still work to do here, maybe I can take some urgent stuff home…”

Anders hadn’t lied when he had told him about Dawn’s sense of duty. Mitchell was fairly impressed – if someone built him such a bridge he’d be over it in a moment, enjoying his day off.

“No need for that,” Anders said pointedly and with a somewhat lingering look at Mitchell if he wasn’t mistaken, “just get some rest and be your bright and eager self tomorrow. That'll do perfectly.”

“Well... if you insist... I suppose I can leave it until tomorrow.”

Anders nodded. “I believe you do. Come on, hurry up.”

He ushered her to grab her purse and get a move on. Just as eager as Dawn, Mitchell grinned, just not with the same goal in mind.

“Alright then...” Dawn picked up her belongings, “I'll see you tomorrow, Anders. Bye, Mitchell.”

With a distracted wave Dawn walked out the door and disappeared around the corner.

“There she goes, back to her cats,” Anders commented with an evil grin, grabbing his jacket and stepping onto the corridor.

Mitchell followed and leaned on the wall while Anders locked the door, the keys on the key ring jingling.

“Did you really just close the office for Dawn's sake?” Mitchell asked, unable to keep the smile from his face.

“Maybe, maybe not. Who can tell what my genius mind is up to?” came Anders’ reply with a massive grin and a wink.

Mitchell scoffed in good humour. “I love your decency, that's really rare these days.”

“I know. I love my decency, too. And my beard. ‘Cause my beard is awesome.” Anders put the keys in his pocket and stroked through his beard with his right, smiling smugly at the brunet.

Mitchell pushed himself off the wall, reaching out and burying his hands in Anders’ beard. The blue eyes widened in surprise but he didn’t pull back. The dense hair felt soft under Mitchell’s fingers and he created a bristling sound when carding through it. Anders’ nose crinkled and his dimples appeared again as he all but purred, leaning into the touch. Mitchell nearly laughed at the sight – Anders reminded him of a human cat, making their prank even more fitting than it had been to begin with.

“Mhm... you’re right,” Mitchell said and let go of him, “if you ever post an ad that should definitely go on the list.”

“It so would, believe me,” Anders smiled, “Do you maybe want to pat my beard somewhere else?”

Mitchell scrunched up his face in what should resemble regret. “Seeing that your office is tragically closed I think we should definitely go somewhere else. More private, maybe.”

“A man after my own heart,” Anders grinned at him suggestively, “Anything special in mind concerning what we can do when we get there?”

The blond moved closer to Mitchell, giving him more than a few ideas how they could spend their day. Still, he couldn’t resist teasing him a little and asked with a grin, “Your fish are still nameless, aren't they?”

“I think so,” Anders nodded in earnest before breaking into a smile, “No handsome stranger stopped by this morning before work and wanted to name them. It's your lucky day.”

“Certainly sounds like it.”

“You know,” the blond reached for Mitchell and pulled him closer, “I also wanted to return the favour you did me for breakfast…”

Mitchell smirked as he put his hand on the small of Anders’ back. “Liked that, did you? Well then, go ahead. We shouldn’t lose time and I can’t wait to check out your arse on the way.”

Playfully, Anders pushed him and started walking down the corridor with an accented move of his hips. “You little rogue.”

 


	11. Epilogue - Of New Friends and Fitting Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie helps out Dawn and the boys are at it again - fish naming.

Poor Dawn, Annie thought as she sauntered down the street, the boys had really been mean to her. As much as Annie was happy for Mitchell that his date had been such a success she was a little unsettled that it had been at Dawn’s expense. And she seemed to be very exhausted if the little hints of texts Mitchell had received were anything to go by. Catnip… Annie vividly remembered the army of cats that had occupied the pink house for a while last summer. No, no one should suffer from that and especially not Dawn. She was really nice and even though they hadn’t actually had a dialogue Annie was convinced that they’d be good friends.

What still puzzled her, though, was the moment in the pub when Anders had bumped into her and apologised. She hadn’t been visible that night, definitely not. Mitchell had said that Anders was neither a vampire, nor a ghost or a werewolf but what if he was something else? A medium, maybe, someone susceptible to the supernatural. When she had left Mitchell and spent the evening with Gilbert they had discussed it, too. Gilbert had said that sometimes, just before another wave of visibility happens, ghosts become visible to some people. Kind of like frequencies or wave-length or sounds that not all people can hear. That was all they knew about the matter, though – they had yet to find someone who could explain the rules for those phases of visibility.

Maybe she could go and see Anders sometime soon, trying to figure out whether he was a medium at last. But for now she didn’t want to embarrass Mitchell any further and she had something important to do anyway: save Dawn from the army of cats.

Annie turned the sticky note in her hands. She had thought about the way to approach the matter and decided that maybe just pulling out the catnip by herself might prove to be a bit scary. Enough creatures had walked around in Dawn’s flowerbeds already so Annie had opted for a message pointing out the fateful plants, written by a “concerned neighbour”. That way, Dawn could get rid of the source and Mitchell could pass as innocent. After all, Anders and Mitchell seemed to click and Dawn should think well of him. This whole ad-thing had worked astonishingly well – if she was honest she hadn’t anticipated this amount of success. While Annie knew that she was way too hasty she had seen the stupid little smile on Mitchell’s face when he thought no one was looking. And that usually meant that he was starting to become invested. Good, Annie thought and smiled, only a little proud that her matchmaking hadn’t ended in a catastrophe for a change.

She changed the side of the street and approached Dawn’s house, if the phonebook was still right and her navigation programme hadn’t let her astray. If Anders and Mitchell decided to hang out more often maybe she could find a way to talk to Dawn. Perhaps even via Anders… but for now she was Dawn’s invisible friend.

Dawn’s front garden was indeed occupied by cats. Between pretty flowers and formerly carefully trimmed grass they were lying, rolling and purring. But that was not the most interesting sight this situation provided. On the step in front of her door Dawn was crouching. She held a massive water pistol in violently clashing colour with both her hands while she squinted one eye, pointing the muzzle at a fat Garfield-like cat that stretched languidly in the sun.

Annie stopped in her tracks for a moment, chuckling at the sight and forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be against the boys’ prank. Dawn looked every inch the sniper Mitchell and George had last summer. Interested, Annie moved closer when Dawn pulled the trigger and a massive jet of water spurted from the muzzle. Garfield the cat darted up, evading the attack but Dawn followed its movement, the water wetting the pavement at Annie’s feet. Annie gave a squeak and jumped to the side a little, trying to dodge the jet of water despite the fact that she wouldn’t actually get wet. Habit, after all, died harder than she had.

“Oh my god!” Dawn shouted and jumped to her feet, staring at Annie in horror, “I'm so sorry, did I just..?”

Annie stared at Dawn, surely sporting an equally shocked expression on her face – but for another reason entirely.

“Are you talking to me?” Annie asked and turned to look over her shoulder. But the street was empty except for another pair of cats that sauntered down the way, clearly heading for Dawn’s garden.

“I hit you, didn’t I?” Dawn asked, voice shaking as she lowered the water pistol and came closer.

_I’m visible_. Annie almost jumped again, this time from happiness. So maybe it had been the pulsating-wavelength-whatever that had made Anders see her. But that was beside the point now because she was entirely visible and could talk to Dawn – for real this time, a proper two-sided conversation.

“No, look, it's fine, see, you must have missed me,” Annie said with a broad smile in answer to Dawn’s question.

“Thank god,” Dawn sighed and blew her fringe out of her face before a somewhat bashful expression crept upon her features. “I... well, you must think I'm crazy. I don't normally sit around here with a water pistol...”

Annie laughed warmly, dismissing Dawn’s concern with a wave of her hand, “No, I wouldn't think that.”

Even if they hadn’t met before Dawn didn’t look like a mental case but rather like a very determined gardener. After a short pause Annie added, “Are you watering your plants?”

Dawn gave a strained laugh. “No. I was actually trying to scare the cats away,” she motioned back to the flowerbeds. “Someone told me that they loathe water so I gave it a try...”

That someone must’ve been Mitchell, then. “Oh yeah, I heard about that, too,” Annie smiled in sympathy, “Do you need some help with the cats?”

The look Dawn gave her bordered on desperate hope. “Yes? If you don't mind... they've been driving me crazy.”

“Sure,” Annie smiled again, “I have no place to be right now and I’m told I have a way with cats.”

That was only partly true but Dawn looked like she could use all the support she could get right now. Annie set out to shush the cats away while Dawn loaded up on water again from a huge bucket that stood next to the entrance.

“Thank you, that's very kind of you,” Dawn said over the sloshing sound of the water, “I'm Dawn, by the way.”

“I'm Annie,” she answered, hesitantly adding, “Actually, it’s only half a coincident that we met.”

Honesty was probably the best way to go about this, Annie thought. Her idea with the sticky note was out of the question but she still wanted Dawn to find the catnip – without creeping her out along the way of course, and without making Mitchell the bad guy. Even though he was, kind of. But she was dying to talk to Dawn about the newspaper ad and somehow their connection had to be established.

Before Dawn could become uneasy Annie added, “Mitchell told me about your cat problem.”

The blonde drew her brows together in question, “Hang on, which Mitchell?”

“Anders' Mitchell,” Annie said in determination, actually enjoying how those two names sounded together.

Dawn lifted her hand a little above her head. “About this tall, Irish, black curls?”

“Yeah,” Annie’s agreed, “He needed a little loving push to go along with the ad thing but in the end it worked out for the best, didn't it?”

Annie’s smile froze a bit as Dawn only looked on in confusion, evidently trying to piece together this information. “I guess he hasn't mentioned me yet? Well, I'm one of his flat mates and he asked for advice on cats and here I am,” Annie ended with a hopeful grin, shrugging her shoulders and waiting for Dawn to say something on the matter.

But no such luck. “Listen,” Dawn started, tilting her head and assessing Annie closely. “I don't want to be rude or anything but I don't think I know you…?”

“Oh no, you don't know me,” Annie said, taking it easy, “Mitchell told me about his date with Anders and about you, well not about you personally, but about what Anders has told him and just a few hours ago I got a text asking for my help with the cats ‘cause he thought you looked really stressed and might need some help, you know,” Annie took a breather from her somewhat rambling answer and finished with a charming smile, “And as I happened to be in the area I thought I might just come around and see what I can do.”

“Right...” Dawn said, accepting her tale with a nod, “That's... that's very kind of him. And you, of course.” She sighed. “Mitchell caught me sleeping at work… I’m telling you, this day is quite the adventure.”

Annie chuckled, “For you and me both. Let’s see to getting rid of those cats and then you can tell me all about it if you like.”

Dawn nodded. “What do you propose we do about it?”

“Well, I think the water pistol is a good start so we might get them all out of your garden. Then we have to figure out why they are here in the first place so they won't come back.”

“That sounds good,” Dawn smiled at her, “God, I'm so happy you're here. I was starting to despair.”

Annie beamed and grabbed a smaller bucket.

 

* * * * * *

 

“And the last one!” Dawn said triumphantly as the last cat left her garden with a jump, “You’re a great shot, Annie.”

She sat down on the step in front of her door and smiled broadly at Annie. Her cheeks weren’t so pale anymore but had taken on a healthy glow.

“Thanks!” Annie beamed, still exhilarated from the hunt, “You aren’t too bad yourself!”

Casually, she leaned on the wall and exchanged a happy glance with Dawn. _Told you we’d get along._

“Now,” Annie started, “about the core of the cat disaster…”

“Right!” Dawn nodded, “We need to find the cause.”

“Maybe you’ve got fish in your trash that they can smell?” Annie asked, well aware that this wasn’t the reason. But she had to progress step by step – her new friendship with Dawn shouldn’t be ruined just because she made herself suspicious.

“The trash was taken out just a few days ago and we never had that many cats around before. So I guess it's not that.”

Annie nodded solemnly, carefully testing the water. “Or did you change anything in your garden lately? Cats are really fond of certain grasses or catnip for example. My aunt had a catnip incident once, I tell you she was never the same afterwards…”

Come to think of it catnip was a bigger problem that commonly known, Annie thought and shook her head at the memory of said incident. Poor Aunt Patricia.

Dawn ran her hand through her hair. “But I’ve got nothing but common flowers in my garden, same as ever. And I wouldn’t plant catnip. This is strange...”

“Are you sure?” Annie steered the conversation into the right direction, “Sometimes it sows itself. Maybe your neighbour had some once and now it's coming over? We should take a look, just to be sure.”

She pushed herself off the wall and walked over to the flowerbed, Dawn following her with a mumbled “That might be a possibility…”

Annie stepped lightly onto the grass and peered into the mess of a flowerbed the cats had left over. If Anders’ and Mitchell’s footsteps had been visible they were long since trampled. Clever, Annie thought, appreciation growing in her stomach despite herself.

Next to her Dawn sighed heavily. “Will you look at the state of my garden...”

“Look, Dawn, over there,” Annie pointed at a bushy green plant that seemed carelessly planted into the soil, “That looks like catnip.”

“Oh my,” Dawn came closer, squatting next to the plant, “but that's... that's a big one.” She looked around when her eye caught the second one. “And over here, too! That doesn't look like it planted itself...and look at the size, Annie, that would've attracted cats way earlier.”

Annie made an effort to look both surprised and in deep thought. “Mhm, maybe you are right…”

Dawn gestured excitedly, “The cats only started appearing last ni-... ANDERS.”

The blonde stared intently at the plants, motionless for the second after she had named the villain of this play. _Yes!_ Annie felt like exclaiming, weirdly proud of Dawn’s combinatory skills and she just about stopped herself from jumping up and down. Dawn had figured it out, Mitchell was still considered innocent – pretty good for her first visible day in a long time.

Dawn turned to her abruptly once she had somewhat recovered and Annie hastened to ban the bright smile from her face. _Look stunned_ , she reminded herself, _you officially don’t know anything about that_ – drawn eyebrows and pursed lips it was.

“What do you mean?” Annie asked but she needn’t have worried: Dawn was well on her way to growl from frustration.

“Anders and Mitchell came by last night. They were hanging around in my flowerbed and woke me. Anders said they wanted to look at the flowers when he actually...” Dawn gasped so hard that she stopped talking. Her arms crossed, uncrossed and pointed accusingly at the plants. “That little... He must've planted the catnip! I think I even saw them have a _shovel_.”

“Noo,” Annie joined in with Dawn’s outrage, “really, a shovel, that's kind of suspicious…”

“Isn't it?!” Dawn all but paced around in excess energy.

“But do you really think they planted catnip in your garden?” Annie asked carefully.

Dawn threw her a somewhat desperate look. “Anders was pretty pissed that I set him up on that date. At this stage I wouldn't put anything past him.”

“Seems a bit harsh,” Annie considered and pushed a curly strand behind her ear, “I mean I don’t know the man but you had his best interest in mind after all.”

“That little trickster,” Dawn huffed, “And drag Mitchell into this, really...”

She grabbed the catnip and pulled. The plant came out easier than she had thought, showering her and Annie in crumbs of soil.

“I should've known he'd strike back somehow but really? Catnip?” Dawn shook the offending plant with her right, “How the hell did he even _get_ those plants?”

Annie kept quiet and let Dawn ramble on. Now probably wasn’t the time to tell her about Mitchell’s missing image on camera.

“… and I really wanted Anders to be happy, you know, and I thought Mitchell was a nice guy for him and I stayed on a bit to see how they interact and they clicked! I'm sure he had heaps of fun this morning, everything went sideways...”

“I know what you mean,” Annie nodded in compassion, “You just wanted someone who is good for Anders, like I did for Mitchell.”

“Exactly!” Dawn exclaimed in relief.

“But it worked out just fine, don't you think?” Annie asked, “I mean as soon as we get rid of the catnip. ‘Cause these two really seem to get along quite well.”

Dawn tilted her head and sighed. “I suppose... still, he should be thanking me, not planting stuff in my garden.” A final grumpy huff and she placed both catnip plants into a bin bag. “But sorry, Annie, I keep rambling on about Anders.”

She turned to Annie with a thankful look. “Thank you so much for helping me. You’re a saint. Would you like to come in and have a cup of tea with me?”

“Oh?” Annie made a surprised sound. Not that she could actually drink the offered tea but Annie’s heart fluttered at the invitation all the same. How nice of Dawn, asking her in even though she barely knew her… “Yeah sure, that would be really great!”

“Come on in, then,” Dawn smiled and opened the door.

 

* * * * * *

 

“Do you think he really looks like a ‘Pebbles’?” Anders said with knitted brows as his eyes followed the newly-named fish float from left to right. “Isn’t that more of a cat name?”

“Pebbles is a great name for a fish!” Mitchell insisted and waved at the animal, “look at the pattern - it fits perfectly.”

“If you say so...” Anders murmured, still not entirely convinced that his fish would appreciate this name.

Both men were only clothed in boxers, squatting in front of the fish tank and stared at the blonds’ beloved pets lazily swimming around their newest plant-addition. That was actually the reason they weren’t lounging in bed anymore. Anders could’ve easily stayed next to Mitchell for a while longer, coming down from their orgasm and making out lazily. But somehow Mitchell had insisted on checking on the stolen aquatic plant – and name the fish for real this time. And who was Anders to deny him.

Besides, something about Mitchell’s enthusiasm drew Anders in. It was oddly charming, the way he crunched up his face trying to come up with a fitting name and Anders found himself pretty invested in the whole thing as well.

“You're awfully picky,” Mitchell shook his head and sent his curls flying, “Let's name another and come back to Pebbles later.”

_I know exactly what you’re doing_. Hell, he was Bragi, god of poetry, there was no way Anders didn’t see how Mitchell tried to sneak that name past him. He had to grin at the insistence, though. That man wasn’t easily stirred from his resolve.

“Okay, mhm, what do think about the one over there, behind the little rock?” Anders asked, curious what Mitchell would come up with, “The one with the little white stripe over the back.”

The green-brown eyes narrowed in intensity only to return to Anders’ gaze with a cheeky glow a moment later. “He looks pretty punk rock.”

“How can a fish look punk rock?!” Anders looked at Mitchell aghast. This was getting out of hand. “It's a fish!”

“His stripes and overall attitude...” Mitchell shrugged and rubbed over his bare chest, “I get the feeling you don't know them at all.”

Anders frowned, a slight feeling of offense growing in his stomach. “I know my fish.”

Just because Mitchell was hot and also much more fun out of bed than anybody had been for him it didn’t mean he could just separate him from his pets – let alone know and understand them better.

“How can you tell such things?” Anders added grumpily, “You just met them yesterday.”

“Intuition,” Mitchell grinned and winked at him in a way too playful manner to keep the grumpiness up, “Just like I knew you were an insufferable flirt from the moment I walked in and saw you sitting there in the pub.”

For good measure Anders scoffed once more. “Pah… Punkrock.”

“Oh come on, don’t be jealous,” Mitchell kissed his shoulder quickly and Anders detected a hint of shyness about the gesture, “I'm sure they love you more and from the bottom of their fish-hearts.”

Bragi jumped at the way his Irish accent made the last word sound and just as Anders managed to calm the god Mitchell added with a lop-sided grin, “After all, I'm just a casual visitor.”

“Maybe you can visit them more often,” Anders suggested without missing a beat, his body still comfortably relaxed from Mitchell’s touches, “and I will take it upon myself to make your stays as exciting and worthwhile as possible.” A broad smirk bloomed on his lips.

Mitchell grinned back, one curl falling into his eyes. “Gladly. I can't wait to see what you come up with.”

Anders leaned over and kissed Mitchell’s neck softly. “I’d show you right now but…”

“Pebbles and Punkrock, I totally understand,” Mitchell chuckled, “Seems I’ll have to come back for more when they won't notice.”

“Exactly! They are confused enough by these names. No need for further damage,” Anders laughed, accepting the christening because what was there to do about it anyway? The main thing was that Mitchell was interested to come back and it definitely looked good so far.

“Now,” Anders said with a nod to the fish tank, “what about the last two? Do they go without names? Don't you think they will be bullied by the others?”

“Oh no, we can't have that!” Mitchell exclaimed, “I'm all for fish equality.”

With a light chuckle Anders observed how the Irishman leaned forward and intensely stared at the glass, following the movements of the fish in question. “Why doesn't that surprise me at all?”

“They seem to like each other…” Mitchell said in deep thought, “How about we name them Gomez and Morticia?”

Anders groaned inwardly. To say the least he had doubted Mitchell’s choice of name before but now this… his poor fish. “Like the two creeps from the Addams family?”

“Creeps?” Mitchell looked at him almost offended, “Those two have great chemistry and they’re funny as hell.”

He may have a point but whatever argument Anders wanted to raise vanished at the sight of Mitchell’s slightly disgruntled look. Trying hard not to burst out laughing he bumped his shoulder against the Irishman’s.

“I didn't say anything against that, Mitch,” Anders said with a smile and conciliatory in tone.

Mitchell raised one eyebrow, leaning back a bit to assess Anders critically. “Mitch? We're naming your fish, not me…” His voice trailed off when he added with a smug grin, “…Andy.”

“What?” Anders’ voice may have jumped a little too high at this bastardisation of his name, “Oh come on. Andy? Really?”

“Mitch?!” Mitchell repeated incredulously.

“Mitch is short for Mitchell,” Anders pointed out in determination, “Andy is just a shit name.”

“Well, tough,” the Irishman laughed, “But ‘Mitchell’ doesn’t need a short form. Or is it too long a name to gasp out?”

The blond gave him a wolfish smile and kissed Mitchell’s lips, deep enough to make an impression but not too intimate to scare his fish. “We'll shortly find out.”

Mitchell’s amused laugh still rang in the room when Anders grabbed him by his upper arm and pulled him towards the bedroom, the Irishman following closely.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to anyone named "Andy" - it's nothing personal.
> 
> Thanks for reading, kudos, bookmarking, subscribing and leaving such lovely comments on this story! ConsultingFili and I are thrilled that you went along with this idea and enjoyed it so much. 
> 
> Cheers :)


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